Only Your Friend
by Chinkonkyoku
Summary: 6X9. This is my attempt to explain everybody's actions in the show: the milieu before the official series. History behind key OZ figures Noin, Zechs and Treize. Explores the relationships between these people. True to the plot of the series.
1. Prologue

A little seven-year-old girl, carefully holding the results of the test and the attached application form to her chest, slowly padded her way across the cold tiled floor of the hallway. She stopped in the doorway to the kitchen, blue-black hair in flying pigtails, lavender eyes holding anticipation, fear, anxiety, resolve. "Mother," she whispered. The figure at the sink washing vegetables didn't seem to notice. "Mother!" she tried again, slightly louder.   
  
A beautiful woman with the same colouring as her daughter was at the sink. "Yes, dear?"  
  
Without a word the girl handed over the various papers. The woman dried her hands on the apron, and accepted the documents. She read over the results carefully and then the attached application form. Finally, she bent down to her daughter's level and gazed at her thoughtfully.  
  
"Are you sure you want to do this, Lucrezia?" she asked softly.   
  
The little girl hesitated, and then nodded emphatically.   
  
"Does your father know about this?"  
  
Noin looked away. "No."   
  
"Wouldn't you think it's better to consult your father on this before we take any action?"  
  
"Mother, would you really think that he'd agree?" she said angrily. "To him, I...I'm only a girl, incapable of doing things like this. You know what he thinks of women and their role in life." Hotly she continued on. "Mother has two university degrees and she's kept at home..."  
  
Now the woman smiled. "Dear, your father might have some backward views of women in general, but even he couldn't make me stay here if I didn't want to. There's nothing wrong with staying home and taking care of the people I love--" The little girl opened her mouth to dissent. She held up a hand to stop her. "But, there's also nothing wrong to do what you want in life."  
  
She grasped her mother's arms, eyes bright. "Then you will sign?"  
  
"Lucrezia. Do you know what this entails? Being a soldier does mean you will have to kill people, sometimes even people you know. Or following orders to abandon your friends on the battlefield. And during battle, to wake up each day knowing that it might be the last day you live--"  
  
"I want to do it! I want to show him I can do it! My two elder brothers, they--"  
  
"That's not a very good reason to enlist."  
  
Noin broke away. "There's also this." She look away into the distance. "I know it sounds crazy, but I...I really just love space."  
  
Her mother smiled. "That's better."  
  
And although at the dinner table there were hysterics and a lot of yelling, eventually the documents were signed and the youngest daughter of the Noin family was sent off, alike her elder brothers to the military. More specifically to Lake Victoria Base, the elite school of the OZ military forces, where even her brothers couldn't make it in. Her elder sister wept and cried. Her father shouting and turned blue and red and various colours of purple. But mother and daughter sat through it calmly, and eventually the victory was conceded. 


	2. I-Return to Beginnings

"To find the signal with better precision, we use a sinc function and matched filtering. 32 point sinc is usually the industry standard, because it's fast and tolerably accurate. Remember, to match filter, we must convolve the mask with the signal. You will recall that convolution is slow--"

Whispers and giggling. Definitely not the sign of an attentive class. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of white being passed around. Half smiling, she continued, as if she did not notice. Walked towards the first row of desks. "But, the method which makes it fast is of course your beloved--" here she turned and snatched away the note as it passed by-- "Fast Fourier transform," Lieutenant Noin finished smoothly. Quirking an eyebrow at the offenders, she asked, "what's this?" 

No response. She made as to unfold the note.

More giggling from the classroom of boys. The guilty parties, Alex and Mueller, flushed. But then the bell for dismissal rang. Noin sighed and handed the note back to Mueller, turning to face the class again. "Remember that even if there is a ball tonight, there still is a final on Tuesday. Remember also that I aim to teach you something on finals, so just memorizing everything won't help." She smiled semi-benevolently at the offenders. "When else do I get your _undivided_ attention?" More giggling from the room as the boys flushed even more crimson, if that was possible. _Just what was written on that note, anyways?_ she wondered.

But it was time to dismiss the class, who clearly weren't paying much attention to her in the first place. "That's all for today. Attention!" 

The boys stood up uniformly and saluted smartly. She raised her hand to brow in return. "You may go."

They departed rapidly, Alex and Mueller being the first to rush out of the room. Noin watched the last of them leave. Sighing, she walked over to the window, traced her hand over the elaborate sill. Such a nice day outside. No wonder nobody was paying attention. She turned and looked out over the classroom. Row upon row upon row of desk, neatly arranged two by two. The varnish on the tables was a little more chipped, and there was fresh paint on the walls, but essentially this was the same classroom as so many years ago, when she was a cadet herself. _So many years, Noin? Don't forget that you're not much older than the cadets you teach._

She was seventeen, so that would be three years older, to be precise. It felt strange to stand up at the front, even after two years, to teach the class what she was taught, not so long ago, in the same classroom. She supposed she was lucky in that Captain Bellevue did not assign her to teach a class older than herself, or even the same age. It would not have worked out. As it was, maintaining order in this class of fourteen year old boys was hard enough. But the older cadets, they would most certainly challenge her authority...she smiled, flicked her head to keep the bangs from falling too far. Seven years, and still it was essentially the same room of giggling boys, passing notes, trying to learn how to crack enemy radar signals. _Not quite the same_, a little voice added. If it were, in the lefthand corner beside one of the covert windows there would be a little girl. A bored little girl with long black hair and deep lavender eyes. Maybe she would acted slightly bored because she was a little intimidated (and a little lonely) being the only girl in a class of boys. A class of boys *much* older than her. So she would stare out of the window in an attempt to feign boredom. Until one day--

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Noin was staring again, and she didn't care. Most probably she would get into trouble again if she was caught. But she didn't care too much about that either. And besides, it was such a nice day outside and the teacher was so boring, and the noise from the room behind was so annoying. Finally, she knew all this stuff already, sinc functions, fft, frequency/time domains, complex space, Euler's circle...

"Lucy," snapped Instructor Ascher.

She stiffened, swung her gaze back into the room again. "Sir?" her voice cold. The use of the dimitative rankled. With all the other cadets, it was *cadet*and surname.

"Please explain why we convolve using Fourier transforms."

"Yes, sir." She saluted and stood up."Convolutions in the time domain require many repeated additions and multiplication because we must sum the weighted area covered by the mask. Calculating the dot product, in other words." Bored already, Noin let her mind relax, and naturally her gaze wandered over to the window. Instructor Ascher thinned his lips, but did not interrupt. "But if we transform to the frequency domain, all we must do is find the vector formed by the point-by-point multiplication of the two signals, given that the shorter vector is correctly zero-padded..." Noin caught herself staring again. Annoyed (it was after all, rude), she forcefully brought her attention back into the room. "It's akin to the use of the slide rule by earlier engineers, sir. Multiplication in the real number domain requires a lot of computation. But if one--" 

__

Something moving outside the window. The captain of the base was walking with an unfamilar figure towards this building. _Too short to be another instructor... _Noin examined him? her? carefully. A puff of wind stirred the new student's long, long hair, so blonde it was nearly white. A new student! A new _girl_ student! She smiled. There were only four other girls in the academy besides herself. And all of them were older, and seemed to be more interested in the boys than becoming friends with a tomboyish girl...

"--so they transformed to the realm of logarithms, where it would just be an addition." She saluted again. "Sir!"

As usual, Instructor Ascher was impressed and more than a little surprised. "That's very good, Cadet Noin. You may sit down now." 

Noin smirked. _Just because I am younger than everybody here doesn't mean I don't have a brain, Instructor,_ she thought. _But you won't understand._

She looked back at the class as she sat down. Some were a little envious, particular the ones that scored closer to her. Some smirked at the teacher's surprise. Some of the other boys, the ones that worried so about their marks, were in awe. But, being one of the five girls registered at Lake Victoria base was not great, no matter how prestigious it may have sound. Being so intelligent that she was pushed ahead three levels was not great, no matter what sort of honour they said it was. That sort of thing bore the stamp of "freak". And even worse, the teachers, they would cut her slack, trying to make things easier because she was a girl, and so obviously the youngest of the class. She clenched her teeth. _I don't need that sort of thing. I'm every bit as good as the next boy._ But there was that persistent small voice that kept insisting-- _maybe you do. Maybe they only reason you're here, at the top of your class, is that they all cut you slack because you're a girl. But hey, you should be proud. _

You're pretty good--for a girl. 

A knock on the door. Noin's heart beat faster. The new girl, she was going to placed here? 

Instructor Ascher stopped his rambling. "Attention!" he called. Heart beating, Noin stood up with the rest of the class, saluting. The door swung open and Captain Nyugen entered. "Everyone, please! At ease."

Saluting, the class sat back down. Captain Nyugen smiled through the open door. "Please come in, Cadet."

The new student walked in, chin up, his shoulders straight, his bearing proud, elegant, graceful. Like that of a _prince. _

A boy.

Her heart sank. Only a boy with long hair. He came to stand at the front, stiffly.

The captain was saying something, something she didn't catch. "-- introduce your new classmate, Cadet---" he faltered. 

The boy with the long hair walked over to the board, picked up a piece of chalk. Wrote his name in large, bold characters on the board. 

__

Zechs Merquise. His voice echoed in her mind.

He bowed gracefully. "Pleased to meet you all," his words cold as ice. As cold as his pale blue eyes that swept the room. Most didn't hold them for very long, shied away as if burned.

Noin's fist clenched. _Who the hell does he think he is? Some kind of prince?_ So when he met her eyes, she caught his gaze, held it, proud._ My name is Lucrezia Noin,_ she retorted back silently. _Please remember that._ She felt a tiny twinge of triumph when he broke off first, glancing to the side. 

The captain and the instructor were talking. "I'm sorry about not informing you earlier, Lieutenant Ascher, but I had expected that Cadet Merquise would have gone to Lieutenant Yuan instead. But clearly, he was so advanced--"

Instructor Yuan. The class for the other nine year olds-- her old class. She stared at him but he paid no attention, looking straight ahead. So, he was the same age as her? He didn't look that way. But that might have to do with his height, or his carriage. Much too tall for a boy of nine. Much too proud, for that matter. _He would have a reason to... he's probably extraordinarily brilliant._ Suddenly it hit her, why she already disliked him so much--_What's the matter, Noin? Jealous? _taunted the little voice. Unsettled, she turned her attention back to the conversation.

"--not at all," Instructor Ascher laughed, smiling at her. "I've got a matched set now, a boy and a girl. Perfect." He turned to Cadet--Merquise, she read from the board. Her eyes narrowed. _Who has a surname of Merquise?_ "Cadet Merquise, please take the seat beside Lucrezia, over there by the window."

Cadet Merquise inclined his head a fraction, instead of the more common salute. "I thank you, sir." 

She watched him as he strode over and sat down beside her, not even sparing a glance at his new classmate. 

__

Perfect, thought Noin darkly. _Perfect--_

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"--ok, Lt. Noin?" A man's concerned voice.

Noin sprang out of her reverie. It was Instructor Piaz of the classroom across from hers. One of her former instructors, he taught basic mechanics. A fatherly middle aged man, with a warm smile.

She smiled back at him. "I'm sorry, Instructor Piaz. I'm just a little tired."

"Instructor, Noin, you only seventeen, you can't be tired! Tired is for the old, ancient" --he made a face. "Like me."

She laughed. He wasn't _that_ old, she replied.

"Anyways," he continued, "there is also the small issue of the ball tonight, and of course, every woman under the age of 40 should be interested in that. Only the most elegant eligible bachelor in the Federation, his excellency General Khrushenada himself!" He gave her a sly look. "I bet your dress is ready, right? You've got a better chance than some!"

It was her turn to make a face. "There's got to be many better looking girls at the party. Beside, I don't want to go-- I have too much work to do-" he rolled his eyes at that and was going to interrupt, but Noin held up a finger. "Finally, he was my instructor once. Students don't fall in love with their teachers!"

The look on Piaz's face told her he wasn't believing a single word. "Well, my daughter--" At that, he glanced at the clock on the wall, blinked and then stared at it in horror. 

"What's wrong?"

"Oh my god, my daughter is going to kill me. I promised to pick up her dress from the dressmaker's and I think that she's closing shop in another five minutes...well, see you at the ball, reserve a dance for me!" he called back, sprinting out. 

"Of course," she replied. But she was so tired... she so didn't want to go... Sighing, Noin walked towards the front desk. _I'll go sleep for a while, or take a bath, and hopefully that would make me feel better. _Collecting her books, she headed out the front door. To her surprise, Alex and Mueller were still there outside. But then again, they almost jumped when they saw her and then sprinted off. _Weird._ Noin shook her head and started back to her quarters.


	3. II-Death of Family

Everyone was surprised at how the little girl took the news quietly. She was summoned before the advisory council and informed that if she needed some time to herself, she could absolve her duties to the 22nd division and not participate in the siege of the South Seoul rebel base. After all, she was quite a young thing and a girl-- definitely factors to consider.

Nobody noticed how the eleven year-old girl clench her jaw tightly. Noin politely refused the offer.

__

We are sorry to inform you that your father and your family was killed in the last terrorist attack by the rebels...

How do you respond in these situations? One moment, in your mind, your father and mother and two elder brothers and one elder sister was living and breathing and thinking; in the expanse of the a sentence, they're dead. And you are only one left of your family. Alone.

They had brought her into the head master's office to present her with the official OZ note. She asked to be excused to her room. What can you do? Noin refused to cry. Father and my elder brothers wouldn't have cried, all being in the martial world, and she refused to do such a thing. _It is the duty of the soldier to die in battle,_ said her father. _It is the duty of the women to shed tears._ And she was a solider. And she was of OZ. And why should it be the women that do the harder thing?

And then it was inhuman not to. And what of her elder sister and mother? She shook her head and swallowed the lump in her throat.

Why did it all happen like this? Her family wasn't particularly evil or radical or important. Why?

My father, she thought dully,_ I had wanted to show you I could do it, I could be strong and protect the people important to me? Is this a test of my strength? Is this to show me that I will weep? Why did you have to leave me here? Mother? Mother! I wanted--_

I couldn't protect them.

She had a sudden sickening sensation that she was going to lose control. Her gaze drifted to the scissors and stayed there, as her vision swam. Twisting her long hair in to a bundle in the back, she cut the length off, as close to her nape as she could. _I am a soldier, my duty is to die in battle. I am a soldier, and I will not cry._

The next morning on the plane nobody, not even the lieutenant in charge dared mentioned her cropped hair. And for her part, Noin did not act out of place at all. _I am a soldier, my duty is to die in battle. I am a soldier, and I will not cry._

As usual, she was seated next to Cadet Merquise. As the plane took off, he said quietly, "My condolences on the death of your family." Much less detached than the normal Cadet Merquise, but absorbed in her thoughts, Noin didn't notice it.

"Thank you." Courteously.

As the plane leveled off and the engines reduced their noise, Lieutenant Schoff, the leader of this mission, briefly went over the plan again. "The 22nd OZ division isn't going to engage in combat; you aren't ready for that yet. Instead, we are acting as information relay for the 3rd and 7th OZ division troops..."

She looked out the window and ignored the rest of the speech.

Landing and setting up the relay stations occurred as clockwork. Even though the cadets were young, they were the elite of the Federation forces and extremely well trained. And also, as their side was really winning the battle, there was nothing much to do. Everybody sat in the hot, humid air monitoring their consoles for enemy movement, alert to the incoming reports and relaying them to central command. It was boring work. Some of the cadets began to complain.

Lieutenant Schoff admonished the class. "This is a serious battle. People are dying on the battlefield-- although I hope more of the rebel forces than ours."

Bent over her console, Noin thought, _isn't it what they deserve? They killed my family. Shouldn't they be dying? _

They killed my family. She clenched her teeth. _They deserve what they're getting. They should all die._

Suddenly a cadet rushed into the encamped site. "Sir," he panted. "Enemy mobile suits are escaping in this direction! We must clear out."

The lieutenant nodded nervously. "Alright, everyone. Don't panic. Pack up orderly and move back behind the fifth division."

The sound of the giant machines cleared into the surroundings. Lieutenant Schoff rushed out of the tent. "They're here? Oh my god--" The sound of fire began, as the lightly armed division of the camp guard engaged the encroaching suits.

A cadet stood up inside the tent, ice blue eyes flashing. "Everyone, drop everything and disperse in the trees," he commanded, his voice calm. "Remember through the foliage it will be hard for them to see you; their aim will be poor. Move around to the west and regroup at the fifth division base."

Another cadet stood up and saluted, as if to a commanding officer. "Sir, what about the equipment?"

"Leave it be. I don't want anyone killed over metal." He closed his eyes, seemingly to listen to the clash going on outside. The sound of gunfire approached closer. "Hurry up and go! The camp guard can't hold back the MS much longer!"

"Sir!" saluted the cadets in the tent. Confused, Lieutenant Schoff did the same and exited. In another moment, the long pale-haired cadet departed as well.

Leaving only Noin in the tent. She stood up slowly. 

__

They killed my family.

Methodically, she began to assemble a plan. It was quite simple, really. 


	4. III- Revenge Past

The rebel soldiers crashed through the foliage and into the open. They formed a tightly organized legion, with two mobile suits in front, scouting the way. "_All clear_," they sent back to the rest, having driving off the infantry guarding the camp base.

"_Let's go_," the first soldier said over the intercom.

"_Roger._" They moved in trained unison forward.

Suddenly to their right came a loud, piercing cry of help. And then it came again more urgently

"_What's that?_" said the second soldier. "_Could it be a trap?_"

"_That sounded like a little girl_," answered the first man. "_We'll have to go investigate_." He started off in his mobile suit towards the direction of the call.

The second suit moved to block the path of the first. "_Didn't you hear me? What if it's a trap?_"

The pilot of the first suit smiled. "_I have a little girl at home too. I'd hope that if she called for help, someone would come running. Here, if you're so afraid of a trap, wait here._" He moved off. Cursing, the other suit waited.

In a little clearing off the main base, the first pilot stopped the originator of the cry. It was indeed a little girl, crying. There was nobody else nearby. But he was a professional soldier, despite being soft hearted. He fired into the nearby foliage, causing the little girl to scream. But nobody was hiding there. Finally satisfied, he stepped into the clearing. The girl tried to crawl alway, but it appeared to be something wrong with her leg.

"_It's all right_," he boomed over the external speakers. _"I'm not here to hurt you._"

From the external cameras, he could see her nodding.

"_You hurt your leg?_"

Another nod. He lowered the hand of the suit. The little girl jumped slightly as the hand was held out in front of here. "_Here, get on. This is a war zone, I'll try and get you out_."

She nodded again and tried to lever herself up. But she couldn't quite make it. 

"_Hold on. I'll get out and help you up_." The soldier disengaged the suit and opened up the hatch. He jumped out off the cockpit and ran to where the little girl was. A pretty little thing, with short cropped hair, much like his daughter at home. As he bent to help her up on the extended hand, suddenly the heel of her hand of transiently at his throat and he could feel his center of balance going as she pulled and he was flipped on his back, head against her knee. The force of the throw knocked him out. 

The little girl stood there for a second, voices clamouring for her to finish him off. But already she felt sick. _I can't do this,_ she thought. _I'm sorry, father, I can't..._

Noin clambered quickly to the seat of the MS and activated the system. It was exactly like the simulations they had been allowed to try so far. She piloted it out towards the direction where it originated.

The second pilot, sighting the MS, sent, "_Well? What was it?_"

Noin shot the other suit in the leg. _Funny, _she thought_, I am very calm right now. _Smoke coiled from the injured part

"_What the hell--?"_

She fired again, aiming for the sensors in head piece. The MS started to limp away, and she sent her suit after.

"_Enemy attack! Help--!"_

Noin let him limp away some more, almost to the main group of rebel MS, almost out of range. And then she shot him down. She smiled, and flipped openned the broadcast transmission. "_This is Lucrezia Noin of the OZ 22th Cadet Divison. " _Already the MS started to run toward towards her, hurried. She let them get to within firing distance and then turned, running towards the camp. Like in the simulation, she dodge the fire.

__

Sidestep, turn, fire, she thought dreamily. _Almost like a dance...and I'm almost finished..._

She sighted the middle of the camp. Suddenly she turned and stopped, disengaging the MS and climbing out of the side. The rebel MS stopped fired and approached her, surprised by this new turn of events, surprised by the pilot of the renegade MS. She smiled benignly at them all. "Goodbye."

In her hand was the self-detonate button.

In the next second, a shot rang out, severing the cord that connected the switch to the internal cockpit. Reflexively she pressed the button, but nothing happened. Noin felt the shot pierce her thigh and she lost her balance, falling off the ledge. She hit the ground, and blacked out.

Meanwhile, all the other MS sensors had blacked out as well. _Jammed. _

A figure ran out of the tent and to the figure of the fallen girl, picked her up and raced for the shelter of the trees.

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Noin walked to her quarters. She remembered her words:_ Students don't fall in love with their teachers._ Well, it wasn't quite true. She did have a crush on Instructor Khrushenada once. _Snicker, snicker_. Defensively, Noin told that voice to shut up. _Every girl did. Even some of the older secretaries...and maybe even some of the boys...and probably some of _his_ instructors..._She flushed. _Don't think nasty things like that._

But then things abruptly changed. _Which only goes to show how fickle I am...stop this immediately!_

Annoyed at herself, she switched on the radio and flopped down on her bed. _Hopefully, it will distract me...at the rate things are going I'm going to be unbearable to be around tonight._

"_-- and here we have a request from Andy: Xiaohuar's_ Idol Talk, _from the blockbuster movie Macross Plus that she starred in this summer!_"

The sound of strange gurgly metallic objects and the interesting mix of noise started fading in. Despite her bad mood, it was one of her favorite songs. She even felt better enough at the end to sing along to the lyrics: "_passe passe temp, con parte de passe non, un petit per--son---age..._" She giggled at how ridiculous she sounded. Nothing like the original singer at all, although some of her students -- _flattering the teacher, of course_--told her that she resembled the actoress. I_t's just probably the hair hanging over my face_, she thought. _A thousand other girls probably wear their hair like that. At least come up with a better flattery..._

The song faded out and the annoying male dj came back on. "_Wasn't that wonderful? To think Xiaohuar's actually going to be here in Lake Victoria City this evening! Yes, the delectable beauty in town for the OZ ball held here in Lake Victoria Base for the recent promotion of their leader, General Treize Khrushenada!_" 

Macross Plus. Despite the fact she could probably count the number of movies she watched in theater on one hand, she actually did go see that one. Or rather, let herself be dragged along. Noin smiled at the ceiling. One of her students, Jacque, had landed himself a job as the stunt pilot for what became famously known as the 'pterydactyl scene'. He had dragged everyone he knew to see it after it was released. Proud of his success, she had allowed herself to be talked into going. To her surprise, the music wasn't that bad. Some songs were quite haunting. Of course, that was to be expected--Xiaohuar was one of the most talented young singers around. But the Mobile Suits pilots in that show! Most unrealistic and very undisciplined! Not a good image of what a pilot should be. But Jacques was so entranced with making the scene perfect. She remembered practicing with him hour after hour in one of the older test planes, tracing the trails of smoke into a semi-bird like shape, yelling 'pull right!' or 'bank!' until her voice was hoarse. But it was fun.

Noin considered it good training. You really needed good spatial ability to do that, trace a bird in the sky. Of course, with a regular plane and regular smoke you needed to be fast as well, or else your picture would be wrecked by the wind. She used to love doing that. Or floating marshmallows from a bowl to her mouth and then eating them. She closed her eyes, grinning. _Yes_, _flying is great._ Noin flipped over onto her stomach, continuing to listen idly to the radio. 

"_You know, I think that women out there really have way more advantages than us males. Some of you are actually going to attend the OZ ball with your boyfriends in the base...you lucky pigs! Not only to be entertained by a beautiful songtress, but to actually have a chance to see General Khrushenada..." _

Outside, the bell rang: six strokes for six o'clock. Abruptly, she flicked it off. Time to start preparing for the ball, which would start at seven.

Dragging herself off the bed, she complained, "I don't wanna go!!!" to thin air. Sighing, Noin opened the closet and began to change.


	5. IV- Songs and Dance

Of course, she should have worn the dress. Of course, but she had to be stupid, stubborn and proud. Proud of her status as OZ officer, she had elected to wear her uniform. _I'm not just one of those many girls that float around tonight, in their beautiful, beautiful dresses... _

It didn't help that _he_ had appeared too, standing as tradition dictated, three steps behind his Excellency the general. As usual, aching beautiful, with a long trail of almost silver hair behind him. When the two men had entered, almost the same height, the room's background noise of chattered dropped to dead silence before rising again. Trieze had smiled his usual sardonic smile. And _he_ had not reacted at all. 

Now the MC was introducing the honoured guest tonight, his Excellency the General. But her attention was really focused on the figure three steps behind, as close as his shadow... there were rumors that the general and his first lieutenant were _involved_. Perfect beauty with perfect beauty. But the two men were so formally correct out of doors it was hard to verify the gossip. So it remained the hottest subject of speculation tonight. The lazy gaze of Treize certainly lent weight to that accusation, but then again his Excellency looks at everybody that way, no big deal...

She glanced up at the two men, tried to see them together. Tried to imagine his Excellency's long fingers tangled in that silver cascade..._stop stop stop_, she cried frantically. Noin flushed a little red, and hoped that no one noticed. But Lieutenant Piaz smiling, had leaned over and whispered in her ear: "_'Students don't fall in love with their instructors', eh?_" She had flushed a darker red. Some of the other instructors had noticed and were trying very hard not to smile. 

"_Nononono, it's not what you think..."_ she protested back. But Instructor Piaz had merely quirked an eyebrow and answered with a look that expressed himself perfectly: _yeah right._ Noin groaned inwardly. How was she going to survive tomorrow? How was she going to survive tonight? Glumly she focussed her attention back on the speaker and resigned herself to a _long_ evening. 

The usual rounds of speechs came by, and thankfully Treize kept his short. So now the master of ceremonies introduced the stars of the evening, Xiaohuar, and two other famous female singers that she didn't recognize. Excusing herself for a drink, Noin made her way to a part of the wall shrouded in shadow. She leaned against the cool plane, wishing dismally that she could just disappear.

But suddenly, the monotonous MC's voice changed to that of a hauntingly sweet female voice: "Thank you, sir." Despite herself, Noin glanced upwards at the new comer. It was the girl from Macross Plus, Xiaohuar. Surprisingly, in person, she _does_ look a lot like me, Noin thought. Just a little bit older, around nineteen. _And yeah, maybe only a thousands times prettier..._She spoke gently into the microphone, but the whole room was entranced with the sound of her voice. "I'm most honoured to be invited here tonight-- I just can't express how greatly I treasure this exprience. So, let me express my appreciation by allow me to sing tonight. My first song is very old, but still quite popular: _Eyes on Me_, by Faye Wong."

And she began, "_Whenever sang my song--"_... Slowly, the dance floor filled up. Even though Noin didn't like the song much (too over played on the radio), the songtress made it seem new again, wonderful again. And then as song after song floated dreamily by, she even found herself enjoying the music. _Maybe it isn't so bad,_ she thought. More relaxed, she let her gaze wander around the room. Here and there were knots of people chatting. Some of the students and the instructors were dancing. She avoided looking the clump that had gathered around Trieze, who was standing somewhere close to the stage. So maybe that was the reason why her eyes didn't wander over to the stage, and as a result, she didn't notice the singer, who kept her snapping her eyes back to a certain figure, still carefully three steps behind his Excellency the General...

"I must apologize. I am hogging the stage again-- it is a bad habit of mine. So now, I would like to invite Miss Xabbu to sing for you now, who I assure you is a much better singer than I." Xiaohuar smiled. Some giggling from the crowd, particularly the younger groups. "I have an request, though, if Miss Xabbu doesn't mind." The girl leaned over and whispered something to the older woman beside her on the stage. The woman smiled and nodded knowingly at the songtress. 

"Of course, Xiaohuar." An older, sultry, more mature female voice. "The next song is _I Love You, _by a very old singer named Celine Dion." She smiled an evil smile at the younger woman, who unabashedly smiled back before moving off the stage. "By special request of Xiaohuar." The band started striking up the song. And Xiaohuar appeared, smiling a little oddly. Noin focused her attention on the girl, a little bit intrigued in spite of herself. The older singer, started,

"_I must be crazy now  
Maybe I dream too much"_

She watched Xiaohuar move towards the group of people around Treize. Surprised, the people let her through. Xiaohuar seemed to be making a straight line for the general. _She's going to ask General Trieze for a dance?!? _thought Noin incredously. _Impossible._

"_But when I think of you  
I long to feel your touch"_

But no, the girl passed the general and placed herself in front of First Lieutenant Zechs Merquise. Noin's heart beat faster. _She's going to ask _Zechs_ for a dance?_ And indeed, Xiaohuar stopped there. A curtsey to the impassive figure, and an extended hand, as if in response to him asking. And all the meanwhile, the song continued:

"_To whisper in your ear  
Words that are as old as time"_

All the room was staring now. All through the other songs, Zechs had remained stationary at Trieze's side. Many of the girls' eyes wandered over there, but nobody was brave enough to walk up and ask the ice blue eyes for a dance, and hell would freeze over before he would ask anybody... But now, someone had taken the initiative, and the room held its collective breath in anticipation of the results. There was a little silence, as Zechs regarded the girl coldly. Xiaohuar's confident smile quavered, and then became frozen.

"_Words only you would hear  
If only you were mine..."_

Then Treize smiled, and turned to his first officer. He must have said something, for then Zechs curtly nodded, bowed to Xiaohuar, extended his hand to ask for the dance. The girl's smile returned and she coyly accepted, allowing him to lead her to the dance floor. The dancers stopped and cleared some distance away, as if in some fairy tale, for the prince and his chosen first.

Noin smiled, amused (she had never seen Zechs dance before). She applauded silently, and tried to ignore the aching feeling in her throat. _Concentrate on the song, stupid_...

"_... so today, I finally find the courage deep inside  
Just to walk right up to your door  
But my body can't move, when I finally get to it  
Just like a thousand times before..."_

But she was drawn, much like everyone else to the couple dancing. Of course, they were doing it perfectly together (a little inward smile--_ would Zechs consent to doing anything less than perfectly?_) but he was doing it distractedly, as if there was something else on his mind. _Ah Zechs,_ she sighed, _you've got a beautiful girl in your arms who half the room wants a dance with and you are distracted...how incredibily you._ But then again, Xiaohuar didn't seem to be noticing. _If I were her, I'll probably stop and slap him though...it might produce better results..._

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She was awaken by the sharp pain throbbing in her thigh. True to her training as a soldier, she didn't show any signs of stirring. And then her heart beat rapidly, as she recalled the events immediately prior. _Where? _she thought. _Am I captured by the rebels?_ Noin fought the urge to move. Slowly, she opened her eyes a sliver. There was only another cadet in OZ uniform. 

"If you're awake," he said quietly. "Keep quiet. They should waste no time searching for us, as they're being pursued, but humans are such illogical creatures." His cold blue eyes met hers.

Merquise, Zechs Merquise. That was his name. She stirred, moving the injured leg and bit back a gasp of pain. There was a linen handkerchief on it, bound tightly to the wound with a strip of cloth.

"Don't move. I'm sorry about that, but I had to get you off the platform quickly."

Ignoring the pain she sat up straight, met his gaze full on, furious. "Why did you interfere? That was revenge for family!"

He was quiet. "You were going to die."

She spat the words back at him. "A soldier's duty is to die! How more honourable to die taking revenge for those who caused your family's death?"

"And then who would bring the flowers to your mother's grave?"

"My gift to mother is the blood of those who killed her!"

"Afterwards nobody would remember your father, or your mother, or your family, right? As the final bearer or your family's name, your duty is to remain alive." He looked away, hard. "That is your obligation to the dead, Cadet Lucrezia Noin."

And she was silent, having no words to counter him. And he was silent, lost deep in thought.

After a long while, he stood up, graceful as ever. "You can't walk, can you?"

She nodded, not in a speaking mood currently. 

He knelt before her, turned his back towards. "Here, get up. We have to go to the regrouping point." Awkwardly she climbed onto his back, stiff. He rose carefully. 

Eventually, she spoke. "I'm sorry about my behavior earlier."

"There's nothing to be sorry about." There was a pause. "Actually," he said, "you shame me."

They were both very quiet on the rest of the way to the camp.

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Just be thankful that nobody's sorry enough for me to ask me for a dance, she thought angrily. After all, it's your own fault.

(In another part of the room: Mueller whispered--"Go ahead, Mr Big-Shot. Go and ask her for a dance!"

Alex sweated for a second, and then replied smugly-- "I'll be a gentleman tonight. I'll allow you the first dance...")

"--dance?" said a cool male voice, breaking her reverie. Chagrined, she glanced upward. Her eyes widened. It was General Trieze Khrushenada.

"Y-your Excellency?" she managed. 

"It appears that your former classmate has been ambushed by one of the most beautiful women in the room." A smile. With a hint of laughter in his voice, Trieze added, "As his superior officer, I can't afford to be outdone. Will you indulge me, Lieutenant?" A proffered hand--

She accepted, with as much grace as she could muster, given the circumstances. They were the centre of attention right now. Noin felt like wilting in the intensity of the stares. But Trieze was accustomed to being a spectacle. He led her to dance floor, amidst all the stares, all the whispers. The General's first dance! With a fully uniformed officer! One of his former students! The room buzzed. She positioned her hand on his shoulder, and allowed him to gently take her other hand, leading. Her heart was racing a little fast-- out of the corner of her eye, she managed to see Instructor Piaz grin at her. Noin sighed internally. There was going to be a barrage of questions tomorrow. And they weren't going to be about the sinc function either. And then there seemed to be another woman in uniform-- a major by the looks of the insignia -- that seemed to be giving her a glare...

"you..?" Her attention snapped back to the present, to the bemused voice of the general. "I think you paid me more attention during class. You and Lt. Merquise must have been trained by the same dancing instructor. Both of you don't seem to like dancing very much."

"I'm sorry, your excellency." Noin flushed, slightly. 

"Accepted, although reluctantly. I had wanted to congratulate you and your student. That young man in that new movie did some spectacular flying, sort of remnant of your student days."

"I did nothing, sir. It was Cadet Jacques's relentless practice that did the trick." 

"I find that hard to believe," he answered absentmindedly. Treize appeared to be observing Lt. Zechs and the glaring woman. They spun around in circles some more-- it appeared to his turn to become distracted. The silence became sort of awkward.

"I didn't know that your excellency watched movies," Noin said to break the silence. It abruptly brought his attention back to her.

"No, I usually don't. But the latest movie- "Macross Plus", I believe -- poses some interesting questions about the future." He paused, as if to think about something, continued smoothly-- "I'm assuming you watched it too, Lieutenant. What did you think of the computer-piloted mobile suits?"

She gave it some thought. "I don't think people would stand for them, sir. Mobile suits can be given far more efficient designs, despite what the engineers tell us about making us of the natural reflexes of the pilot. But sir, people want to see _people_ fight." She smiled. "Well, at least semi-humanoid objects piloted by real humans, sir," Noin concluded.

"Yes, otherwise it would just be a farce," Treize replied, slightly more intense than his usual tone. To her surprise, he lost that perpetual smile he wore for a moment. She judged it prudent not to say anything anymore, and they continued dancing.

At the end of the dance, before she turned to leave, Trieze said, "Lt. Noin, have you heard that the Alliance has allotted funds for researching an automated MS system? An AI, to replace all pilots. Perhaps, although, we might conclude more happily than Macross Plus. Excuse me." He bowed, perfectly as always, and left before Noin could answer. 

"General Trieze," she murmured. She shook her head. This was proving to be a most interesting night... 

"Well, well, well," smirked a certain instructor. "Who made the catch of the evening?"

"It meant nothing," Noin said absentmindly. 

"Well then, I'll have to assume you're after the _other_ guy..."

"_WHAT?!?_" Flushing.

Before he could reply, the audio system can alive again, with Xiaohuar's melodious voice. "... I guess he has another girl on his mind. So, I would like to sing this next song for him, "Only your friend", from Macross II." 

Lt. Piaz turned to Noin. "Well, I'm not a general, and I'm not_ that_ good-looking. But I would like the envy of all the males in the room, so-- may I have the next dance?"

Noin sighed. "It would be my pleasure."

As they paired off on the dance floor and the music started, she asked, intrigued. "There was a Macross II? I hadn't heard of it."

Piaz replied, "Yeah, but it's pretty awful. I think this is the one decent song out of it..."

The saxophone intro concluded, and Xiaohuar started:

__

_Again I heard her words   
Exactly as said  
That she'll give  
Oh so true  
She loves you._

_And I hear you   
So fret and upset  
How you won't  
Give your love  
Evermore._

Surprised, Noin found herself enjoying the dance. It was a pretty song and there was less tension than dancing with Trieze...

__

_It's then when my heart   
Skips a beat  
Am I only your friend?  
Long lost out of view,  
As I sit next to you_

_And suddenly you rise and go  
You walk away  
I lose sight of you..._

"May I cut in?" said a voice she hadn't expect to hear. Controlled, cool and calm. Much like him, in fact, much too like--

First Lieutenant Zechs Merquise.

Instructor Piaz froze for a second, and stared. He recovered and managed: "C-certainly..."

A bow, more of a small movement of the head, to the older man and to her, and his gloved hand held hers. Which, surprisingly enough as it was, didn't shake. But Noin heard her heartbeat much too faster for comfort, and fought the sinking feeling that either she was going to wake up or screw up. He was warm, even under the glove, the uniform. And now, much, much too close for comfort, with his hand at her back, her hand on his shoulder... And she daren't meet his ice blue eyes, or even look up, because she was sure she would start flushing red, if she wasn't already... Another sort of ritural, a different sort of dance altogether. No, concentrate on the song:

__

_...I can't let on that I'm scared  
You'll see right through to my soul  
What will I say, when you know?_

_Forever! Held in my heart  
I'll hold inside how I wished it to be  
And never let it show_

_Maybe you'll never leave me  
Remain as friends, let it be  
I'll hold inside these few words:  
I truly love you..._

"So," he said, "how have you been, Noin?" Calmly, evenly... after all, she thought, as if he was interested in her... the thought restored some sort of balance. _We're friends. We're only, exactly, precisely that. _

She smiled. "Pretty good. I'm teaching now, here." A wry smile-- "Just discovering how awful students can be, all from a new perspective."

A little voice, went: _another girl on his mind..._but she squashed it. "I recall you were the model student. The instructors were always referring to you as the role model."

"Only when you weren't presented as perfect."

He replied, with a hint of amusement. "Remind me again why I bother debating anything with you."

With perfect equanimity, she answered. "Because I might win."

Zechs smiled. "It all becomes clear now." He paused. "Why didn't enter the active arm? Your grades--"

Noin flushed. "I... I don't like fighting. I ... hate it when people get killed." She paused. "Do you remember the rebel soldiers we 'captured' during our first excursion. Even though they were part of the group that killed my family, I felt horribly sick when I watched their execution. If I had follow General Catalonia, I would have to fight a lot more." 

He noticed her colour. "It's not something to be ashamed of, Noin. My... I know another girl like you. Her name is Relena."

Her smile froze. The bottom of the world dropped out. Xiaohuar had said, another girl. My... 

_Girlfriend._

Obviously. How could he not? The beautiful, talented daughter of the Vice Foreign Minster Dorlian, who he had saved, making all the headlines, from a rebel MS. A princess, falling in love with a knight, who descended from the heavens. A fairy tale, except it probably occurred in real life. 

She started to asked him how was Ms. Dorlian, but he had frozen, staring hard into a crowd of people under a overhang. He had retracted back into that stiff, formal mode he could be in, especially when he was under stress. His eyes narrowed, lightened.

"Is there something wrong?" Noin followed the direction of his gaze. His eyes seemed to follow one uniformed man.

"Nothing, Lieutenant," he said, coldly, distractedly. Then he transferred his stare to her and she almost back up on the intensity. Almost neutrally, evenly, he asked, "who is that man in the Alliance uniform?"

Confused, she replied, "Lt. General Diego O'Neguil, representative of the Alliance military here tonight. He's the person--"

But Zechs had already turned, broken away from her, bowing, walking towards that crowd.

"--the commander who launched the attack on the Sanq kingdom," she finished quietly. 


	6. V- Revenge Now

When that man had entered his world the first time, everything was turned upside down. So it didn't come as a surprise to First Lieutenant Zechs Merquise that when the Lt. General Diego O'Neguil appeared again in his life, the world had wrenched sickeningly, narrowing on this one man. Everything driven at once from his mind.

O'Neguil. The man who killed his father and destroyed everything he had ever had. Everything, lost in one blood-soaked evening... 

He want to kill the man the very instance he laid eyes on him, every muscle tensed and held by sheer effort in its place, not to move, not to do anything rash. His father's voice, quoting from Kant: _treat all beings as a end in themselves and never as a means... act always according to the most reasonable course. _As Sun-tzu had said: _a gentleman's revenge might take ten years_. But another part of him protested: _ten years, it was _more_ than ten years..._

Zechs stood in the cold rain, trying to bring his mind, his body back into line. Back into function. _You were ten feet away from the man who killed your father and you didn't even draw your gun. You could have killed him. _His hands tightened into fists, fingernails biting into his palm.

Another proverb: _You and your father's murder cannot coexist under one sky. _Ten feet away. _Merely ten feet away_. He closed his eyes, feeling the cold rain pour down on him. _Would that be your tears, mother?_

Later, oblivious to the cold, he sat in front of the laptop, plugged into the general information network. The files he wanted access to were privileged military information, and he did not have the permission levels or the passwords to do so. But he knew that he would eventually get the information he wanted.

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Noin had volunteered to be the councilor for girls in the Academy, but since there were only something like ten girls registered, she usually did not have to do anything. Well, today, fifteen or so girls had shown up in her office, all here on "official" problems, but really just asking about last night. When she finally excused herself to teach, they had reluctantly allowed her to go, promising to come back later. And then, class was impossible. There wasn't even one single question on a sinc function, or even about the midterm, which she probably should write up sometime soon. (Alex and Muller were sulking about something, and wouldn't co-operate either.) After class there came an invitation out for tea by the secretaries, who wanted some "juicy" details on the two men, and why had Lt. Zechs walked out so suddenly on her (their current theory was that she had mentioned the General, and you know men and their pride...). So when she saw the newspapers (and the tabloids sold next to time), she groaned. The press apparently had labeled her the protege of the General (and maybe something else?), and the tabloids had it that she had a wild, kinky relationship with _both_ men, menage a trois style. It was very late at night before she returned to her quarters, entirely left alone with her own thoughts, which she desperately need to sort out.

After unplugging the telephone, she flopped out on her bed, exhausted. _General, Zechs, why did you have to do this to me?_ But Noin was confused. What was wrong with Zechs? Why did he walk out like that? What are my feelings towards the lieutenant? Just another schoolgirl crush?

It was unbearable rude of him (_but so unlike him_, mentioned the little voice) to walk out of the dance, leaving her alone, stranded on the floor. She was angry with him for that. She was angry at herself for being angry at him for such a small thing. Furthermore, it just felt like another crush, nothing more. Physical attraction. (_Who wouldn't be?_) Then why was she upset that he had a girlfriend, that it wasn't her? Jealousy? Was it as simple as that?

"Argh," Noin said to the world in general. "I'm becoming a mess. A typical high school girl. You're saaaaad and paaathetic, Lucrezia Noin, becoming obsessed over a boy." She made a face and began changing out of her uniform. _You have a final to write, and no more time to worry about such things as your _friend _First Lieutenant Zechs Merquise, as handsome as he might be._

So she logged on her computer, started up Emacs and began typing up the exam. Then it died. And restarted again.

_What? What's going on? _

"Why did the Myr06 frame crash?" she muttered to herself. The system was based on the CHAN kernel; it shouldn't crash much. Could it be someone trying to hack in? Trying to use the abnormal conditions at start up to take advantage of any bugs? Intrigued, she started investigating into network activity.

But after three hours of careful investigation, she had to admit, it wasn't likely. She found no trace of any abnormal activity in the system, before or after the crash. And it wasn't like a crash was totally impossible. (It had crashed sometime last year). Activating the watch program on her terminal, Noin watched as millions of packet whizzed by. She asked the computer to summarize the direction of data flow. A window popped up, nicely displaying the computers the system was currently connected to. Of course, there were the usual sites were connected: the base in North Africa, in Shanghai, in Siberia, in Luxemborg... and then there were the usual government sites, and a thousand and one random people surfing the net from within Lake Victoria net. Some remote connections from computer workers that had gone back home. All normal stuff. _You're just a suspicious person, Noin_, she told herself, yawning. She started to write some more of the exam. Eventually, she fell asleep.

Meanwhile, the net activity program ran in the background, still carefully monitoring the traffic across the main bridge computer of the Lake Victoria network.

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He remembered, when he was younger, of gazing up at the hallways in the palace, where countless ancestors bore down on him. Here and there, he recognized, with a strange sense of familiarity, here was his nose, there his eyes, and there agin his hair. The men had usually been painted or photographed with weapons of war-- you could learn the evolution of weapon from the portraits. In the older paintings, the kings, dukes, earls carried first the broadsword, and then epee or sabre of latter periods. And then came the guns, which replaced the sword as the primary method of killing men. The weight of the gazes bore heavy on him even then, daring him to be improper, to disgrace the family honour.

He recalled the places in the hall where armour and weaponery hung, even though they had been taken down by royal decree before he was three._It is immoral and shameful to hang such instruments of death in our house,_ his father had said. _Although we cannot change the past we are not proud of it._

Even at five years old, the Crown Prince Millardo Peacecraft was precocious. He amazed his tutors at his grasp of history, science, and languages. But more amazing to them, was the bearing of the little prince, each action careful and measured and entirely, flawlessly proper. Even his Great-Uncle, the Earl of Alhenard, noted for his strong opposition to King Peacecraft's reforms-- _'Peacecraft',_ the old Earl spat, _'Peace' 'Craft'? When our glorious ancestors defended our country by the threat of blood?_ --even he had nothing but praise for the prince. True to his father and the modern factions, he studied voraciously the arts of philosophy, of statesmanship, of peacecraft. True to the rest of his family and the heritage factions, he studied swordmanship, military strategy, warcraft. Both sides proclaimed he was a dutiful nephew or son, and left the prince alone to his own devices. Never was so much attention focussed on a little prince. Never was so little attention paid to a little boy.

When asked by the media on his views, the prince was careful not to offend anybody. For his father's changes were not popular with the people, and he had to represent the hope for the future, for a reconciliation of two views that cannot coexist. "Peace," he said, his clear child's voice grave, "is the true objective of all nations. Whether it is by the careful use of statescraft, or of military power, it is the security of our people, that my ancestors-- and likewise, my father-- strives to protect." Both sides interpreted as they wished. The nation applauded. The prince hid inside the library, where he wished at once they would leave him alone, and come look for him. 

He was overjoyed by the birth of his sister, Princess Relena Peacecraft, because for once, his family seemed like an normal family with everybody celebrating the birth of the little girl, and not arguing over his education. Within his family for a while, a few short months, there was peace.

And then war struck.

The idea of absolute pacifism proclaimed by King Peacecraft of Sanq had been spreading slowly across the world. In the modern ages filled with rebel armies, terrorist attacks, civil wars, revolutionary wars, anti-revolutinary wars, the prospect of peace was appealing. Lay down your arms and your enemy will do the same, out of shame, because of your moral superiority. For is it not written that the meek shall inherit the world? It was the only way the weak could rebel against the strong.

Only if the producers of weapons, the Romeller Foundation, gave up their wealth in the trade of death. Who can sacrifice money, prestige, power, all in one go?

Only if the weak in power, the heads of the Alliance Military, did not fear their ultimate loss of influence. Who needs armies in everlasting peace?

Only if the strong in their strength were noble, honourable people, like King Peacecraft. Is it human nature to nurture the weak?

They attacked the kingdom, hoping to show the world the hypocrisy of the teachings. But true to teaching of his mentor Heero Yui, King Peacecraft of Sanq protested peacefully, the first of his bloodline to do so. And the mobile suits ran over the country. They destroyed the palace, leveled its cities. It didn't take very long, with the all armies of the United Sphere Alliance Military.

In one evening, the Kingdom of Sanq fell.


	7. VI- Computer Tricks

At least inside the international tribunal, there was silence from the constant glare of cameras, reporters and microphones, eager for news, a photo, a word from the two prodigal cadets. Once they had stepped from the car that brought them to the courthouse, the paperazzi had dogged their heels. After all, this was a most newsworthy worthy event-- two cadets enabling the arrest of terrorists, leading eventually to the capture of the terrorist leader himself. Certainly they could not have missed it, not if there were this many photogenic people around.

Like, for example, Captain-- now Colonel-- Treize Khrushenada, a mere 17 years of age, the leader of OZ Squadron 33rd that made the final capture. Daring, dashing, debonair, he favoured the press with his signature smile before entering the hushed silence of the court halls. 

But truly, today even Colonel Khrushenada was eclipsed. Lo, from the second car stepped the cadets. The cameras went crazy.

Even at this age, he could pull the attention of everyone to him. The long, much-too-silver hair? The ice blue eyes, unamused? The harsh set of his still childish lips? He was as beautiful as summer, decorated, brilliant. Even his aloofness was allure. 

The other cadet was largely ignored, much to the relief of the other cadet. Only a tom girl, with a limp because of an unimportant leg wound. Only someone incident to the whole affair. An unimportant player, given the man and the boy.

Noin slowly limped towards the door. Zechs, noticing the pace of his fellow classmate, slowed, offered her his arm. She merely gritted her teeth, shook her head and walked faster. Inside the men who had killed her family awaited. Her eyes narrowed. She would not fall now, before the world, as the daughter of her mother, the daughter of her father.

Finally she was in the shadow of the hall, and breathed deeply of the air. They walked along, in the dim lighting, through the antechamber. Many heads turned to stare at them, the presence of two children among this room of high-ranking men, generals and admirals and commanders of the Alliance military. They continued on, heedless, toward the main doors of the courtroom. An uniformed officer showed him to their seats among the witness panels.

They had barely taken their seats when a tall, stately general had crossed the floor to stand in front of them. Noin began to rise, as Zech did, as it was proper, but the general smiled and waved at them to sit down. "You're hurt, Cadet. Don't exert yourself."

"General Noventa," Zech said, his voice cool. He did not salute, as proper, but spoke the name as equal. Standing, he was a head shorter than the man, but somehow he seemed taller.

There was surprise and another, stranger look in General Noventa's eyes as he acknowledged the cadet's response. There was respect in his voice when he answered, "Cadet Merquise."

Noin saluted again, eyes wide.

"At ease, Cadet Noin." He started his congratulations. "You both deserve the awards for the courage and innovation displayed on the battlefield. There are many that believe the Specials and Operation Zenith is a failure, but cadets such as yourself prove them entirely wrong."

"I thank you for your kind words, General," Zechs replied coldly. "OZ is honoured to be praised by General Noventa."

Noin looked from the man to the boy. The bulk of what was being said wasn't vocalized.

Finally, General Noventa turned to Noin. "My condolences on the death of your family. I knew your father, Captain Noin, and he always was an honourable soldier and a wonderful friend." He reached out to pat her hand. "Doubtlessly your father would be extremely happy with the progress his daughter is making, such that she is able to avenge her family."

The mention of her family brought the cold lump of rage and tears into her throat again. "Thank you, General," she managed.

Noventa smiled sadly at them both. "Nevertheless, I'm not here just to cause you pain. On the behalf of the council, I'm here to extend an invitation to the both of you to undergo special training under General Catalonia. Obviously both of you are officer material, and much advanced beyond your fellow compatriots. However, you both are very young, and the psychologists do think there is a possibility of--of psych damage if you are introduced the realities of... real war... at such a young age." Noventa stumbled over the words. There was shame in his eyes, unexplicably. He looked away, hard, pretending that the rustle of people taking their seats had temporally diverted his attention. "The council has decided to rest upon your decision. You need not give me your answers now, cadets. But please think about it carefully." With that, he went to his seat.

"'Real war'?" Cadet Merquise's voice, bitter as she had never heard before. "'Damage'?"

There was grief and outrage and something entirely undescribable in his eyes. She stared at him. "Cadet Merquise?" she said, unsure of what had just passed between the man and the boy.

A moment passed as the grief triumphed over the boy's control, and flickered on his face. Then the cold mask he wore slammed down again, cool, flawless, controlled. He turned his attention to the court, face hardened into its usual glittering facade.

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"Ow, ow, ow, ow..." Noin complained to no one in general. Sleeping slumped over the computer terminal had given her a crick in the neck, so when she straightened up, her neck muscles protested. She stared at the clock on the computer screen. Three am. _What an auspicious hour_, she thought darkly.

Hmm, she had apparently left the monitoring program still on. Well, might as well check on what everybody's been up to in the last couple hours. Room 156, the fifth year's boy dorm has been mostly going to porn sites. Except some correspondence issued to a student to Luxemborg base. Odd. Why would a bunch of boys contact Luxemborg, especially in the middle of downloading porn flicks? Noin yawned. _Some really industrious student. _Or...?

A couple commands brought up the suspect message. A request to Luxemborg base, that apparently was never answered. What? 

She traced the message back to the hub and through to dorm. Apparently it was engaged as an attachment of some sort to some application the boys were downloading. From there, back to a well established porn site and to a maze of virtual connections. . . making it virtually impossible to trace back. Suspious. She brought up one of the messages. It was lightly encrypted, typical of any normal communication-- all it took was several minutes to crack. Inside-- only a formula claiming to an answer to some sort of problem something named "P.C." had requested. And also a file (corrupted apparently) that was an scan or something of some solution. Pretty normal stuff. But why then was it so hard to trace? 

Ok. _So whoever this is, it's a very subtle attack... but I have more than one trick up my sleeve._ Noin took the message and modified it slightly so that it registered her as a sender. And then, she sent it as a request to Luxemborg base, but with a request to see each hub where this message went to. _A dangerous move. It might alert the other person to have the requested action repeated twice, but seeing how it worked the first time, maybe I can see where the second reply goes..._

To her surprise, it went to Luxemborg base, and then was bounced to North Africa and then to Shanghai, where it disappeared. Minutes later, a message returned to her with a failure notice and the original message. But given the speed of the fibre-optics network nowadays, it really shouldn't take that long... Curious, Noin opened the original message. It was timestamped only a couple seconds ago-- meaning that the message had spent quite a while at the Shanghai base. Where it could have done something...? She brought up the bounced message and examined it. But when she tried to open the image again, a _different_ sort of internal viewer error appeared. Alarmed, she did a diff between the two messages-- 

They were different. 

Bingo. 

Very clever though-- the two images were the same size, and apparently bore the same characteristics. She sat back and rubbed her eyes. Now, why is the difference significant? To her, it didn't look encrypted at all, or did it bears signs of any known encryption strategy, unless you counted things like one-time pads and those were proven to be uncrackable...The equation! It must be it!

For the next three hours she tried everything with the equation sent in the mail- as a encryption key, a hash function, as a filter. But nothing worked. The message still remain exactly as it was: a random string of bits. Rubbing her eyes, she tried one more thing: XOR-ing the equation with the image. The output flashed by her terminal-- _oh shoot, I've forgotten to specify the end of the string to XOR by_, she thought. And then, coherent words began to appear.

"A one-time pad consisting of the original image... clever..." Noin said out loud. "Plus an equation as a trap." She smiled. _I should have thought of that sooner._ Her brow furrowed. _The style... it was familiar? _

She redirected the output to a text file and began to read it. "Itinerary of Lt. General O'Neguil..." 

Her eyes widened in shock. 

_Zech's cold blue gaze following the man, eyes narrowing. _

She shook her head. It had to be a coincidence, merely a coincidence. But a very small voice said: _there are no such things as coincidences._ But what did Zechs want with this information? What had Zechs against this man? Noin bit her lip and tried to recall what she knew of her former classmate's background. Cadet Merquise had been pretty reserved most of the time, distanced from everybody. She didn't think she heard much of his background, not even where he came from... _good point, _she thought. _I never heard him mention anything about his nationality, or even where his home was. During the summer vacation, I recalled, he stayed here in the Academy. Just like me, after---_She bit that thought off and allowed the wave of sadness to pass. 

What do both men have in their past, that brought them together? Zech's records should still be in the database. As an instructor, she should be able to access the information. Noin felt a pang of guilt over abusing her instructor's rights like that, but it appeared to be the only way. She queried the database and in an instant she had the records. _Zechs Merquise, permanent address: none. Parents: none_. She skimmed over the fields. He didn't seem to have a lot of information in the records, besides grades from various exams and various awards. She continued. _Nationality claimed:_ Sanq Kingdom.

Noin stared at the screen, at the two words. Her words at the ball, echoed as if from a far distance: _Lt. General Diego O'Neguil...the commander who launched the attack on the Sanq kingdom._


	8. VII- Execution

It was another boring day at the Roxenburg House for the guards. First of all, this place was a only a tourist attraction, so all they really have to do is dress in the formal garb of the Alliance military and look sufficiently militant for the people taking pictures. All in all, it was considered a plum job: you really didn't have to do anything.

Or so most of the display guards thought. Some select few, however, knew that this was favourite place for the higher up to meet in private, discreetly. After all, no one really looks at tourist attractions. And of course, while the tourists were a headache to the department of security, they served as great camouflage. So, while the mansion was decorated up with colonial furbishing of a bygone empire, it really served to disguise state-of-the-art monitoring equipment.

Which, to certain tourists, was certainly very useful. State-of-the-art meant electronic, and electronic meant bypassable, if you really knew how. People, being only mildly efficient, were much harder to get pass.

When the janitor returned to his cleaning cart, he found a tall young man standing beside it. A cursory examination revealed that this boy wore a large pair of cover-all shades, and carried a red-tipped white cane-- he was blind. The janitor felt a twinge of pity-- this young man was rather well-built, and probably handsome, save probably for his eyes. He wore a baseball cap. When he approached, the young man stood up, turned to face the direction of the footsteps. "How may I help you?"

The young man smiled. "Excuse me, sir, but are you the janitor?"

The janitor nodded, and then stopped, feeling foolish. "Yes, do you need something?"

"I think something's wrong with one of the bathrooms. One of sinks, it's backing up--" Here he started coughing. "--Excuse me." 

"Oh. Could you show me where it is?"

"Certainly."

They went down a flight of stairs, the young man's cane tapping on each step, and entered a particularly crowded tourist area. Down a hallway and then to another secluded corner with washrooms. The men's were marked with a sign, "Out of Order". But of course, the blind can't read. 

"Yeah, there's a sign reading that it's out of order on the door." He turned his cleaning cart around. He sighed. "But if the sink's backing up I suppose I better go check on it." He entered the bathroom. Several seconds later the young man also entered.

"Hey--" A single chop to the back of the neck is what it required. The janitor slumped and the young man lowered him to the ground gently. And then methodically began striping him and putting on the janitor's uniform over his own clothing. Finally he took off the baseball cap. A long braid of silver-gold hair fell out. He coiled it back and hid it under the janitor's cap. He looked at his reflection in the mirror, pale, unsmiling. A single strand of hair shook loose, fell into his eyes. Automatically his left hand came up; brushed it away. It shook. Alarmed, he brought it in front of him. Coward.

Zechs crunched the hand into a fist.

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The Lieutenant General Diego O'Neguil proceeded towards the conference hall. A statuary guard of two men followed as his protection; they were in a cleared area. Thus, theoretically, they should be safe from attack. His mind wasn't on the meeting. It was merely an inconsequential gathering of high up officials, interested in knowing that the world was as it was yesterday: unchanged, unthreatened. Instead: a little girl, black haired, pretty, smiling...

A sound of something heavy being pushed towards him at the intersection of hallways. The guards at his back automatically turned towards the source, alarmed. Nothing but a janitor. Waiting respectfully for the Lt. General to cross first. They stepped out into the intersection--

The cart rammed into the party, surprising the party. Zechs vaulted over the obstruction, slammed into the nearest guard, a punch directly to the solar plexus. The other guard fumbled with a gun-- dropping, he swung a leg for the back of the knees; as the man fell, elbow to head. He charged for the surprised general, the concealed razor in hand--O'Neguil grabbed the blade, in a desperate attempt to defect the weapon.

For a second, the world spun and Zech nearly blacked out. He lost control of his body.

O'Neguil shoved him off, and he crumpled. He couldn't move properly. What is this weakness, his mind cried and with more a will of effort, he staggered upright. But too late, O'Neguil had already drawn his pistol, prepared to fire--

I failed--

"Hey, general!" shouted a voice. O'Neguil didn't turn, too well trained to fall for this type of trick, but he did pause. An object sailed in a falling arc for them, thrown lazily. A shot rang out, knocked the pistol out of the general's arm. The world exploded in smoke.

I failed, thought Zechs Merquise, as the world blurred and faded.

Admist the fire alarm, the sprinkler system, a figure dropped down beside him, grabbed one arm and tried, rather unsuccessfully to hoist the body up. "You're horribly heavy, Zechs..." she murmured, muffled by the gas mask she wore. After two more tries, she got the body fireman style on her shoulder, and staggered out of the building admist the panicked rush of tourists.

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She heard the testimony of the men. Their families sat in the bleachers. The court was quiet, waiting for the juries to come out and announce the verdict. Not because everybody did not know what it would be.

The stare of the prisoners' families were on the cadets. They drilled a hole into her. Noin refused to wilt under their gazes. But the stare of the little girl in the front row bore on her heavily. _I cannot bear this burden,_ she thought. Beside her, the other cadet- Zechs Merquise- was silent, oblivious. 

'_I have a little girl at home too. I'd hope that if she called for help, someone would come running...'_

_No, _she screamed silently_, in the confines of her head. These were the men that had killed her family, her mother, her sister, her brothers, her father! They were the evil ones, they could not be spared. _Revenge of family is only proper. She had meant to kill them, to longed to kill them, like how they murdered her kindred... But the other little girl in the row. She flinched.

"Why are upset, Cadet Noin?" Zechs asked, his voice even and calm and collected. "They are certain to be sentence to death. Your family, at least, will be avenged."

There was a moment before she answered. "You misunderstand. I--" She could not find the words to continue. Only that she could not look at the audience.

Zechs met the gaze of the little girl calmly. "Certainly you remember the death of your family? Is it not correct that the perpetuators of this crime suffer, in an as such as you did?"

"But what of the others?" she said softly. "But what of their families?" She swallowed hard. This was treachery, to the memories of her father. "I wish--I wish that these men will not be given the death sentenc. I don't want their families to suffer, because--I know of the loss..."

He turned to her silently, something unreadable in his eyes. Finally, he spoke. "I admire your generosity, Cadet Lucrezia Noin. I cannot be so forgiving." His voice was harsh here, but she was too sunk in her misery to notice. He smiled, but bitterly. "My father would have been proud of a daughter like you." And in his eyes, there was the unmentioned: _unlike me._ Gently, he added, "You are a person of peace, Cadet. May I ask why are you in the military?"

It was her turn to smile sadly. The fights with her father seemed so far away now. "You're right. I hate killing people. I hate violence and violent people. But I love space, and the endless freedom it represents. I hate being bound to anything, even this world. But, as foolish as it seems, the military is what traditionally my family joined. My brothers did, my uncles did, my father did. All of them died in service of this world. And I... I wanted to show my father I could too..." she bit her lip, trying to suppress the tears that threatened. "In the end, though, it seems I'm worthless as a soldier. I hate killing people." She changed the topic. "What do you think of General Noventa's proposition? What do you make of it?"

"I am not surprised." There was only acknowledgement in those words. He added: "I will accept. There is no purpose to my life anyway." He turned to her, a hint of smile in his eyes. "Will I have the pleasure of your company, Cadet?"

There was warmth in the request. Recklessly she wanted to say yes. His attention was like the warmth of the sun. "I... I don't know," she hedged. "I haven't decided yet. However," she started, smiling, "any way I choose, I would be more than honoured to have you as my friend, Cadet Zechs Merquise."


	9. VIII- Truths and Misunderstandings

Negotiation of the room in the shady motel they were going to stay in was _interesting_. Noin had to fight the urge to flame a bright red and walk in confidently in a camisole, as she daren't wear her OZ uniform openly. Too inconspicuous. The receptionist, having seen everything before, didn't even bat an eye at the state of dishevelment; he merely accepted cash and handed over the keys. 

Luckily the room was at ground level; Noin didn't think she could have hefted Zech's limp body up any flights of stairs. She had left him on the motorcycle while she spoke with hotel management. Going back out, she drove the bike closer to the motel room, parked. Dragging one arm across her shoulders, she half walked, half dragged him to the door, pausing at the door to fumble with the key and the lock (stupid, she thought, should have opened the door earlier!), entered and dropped him unceremoniously on the closer of the two beds. Exiting the room, she retrieved her uniform from where she tied it on the motorcycle. Re-entering, closing the door, she staggered to further bed and sat down slowly, muscles in her back aching. _I think I might have pulled something._ She tried stretching, winced and stopped.

Only then did she allow herself to consider what she had done, the consequences of her actions. One of him lay on the bed beside her, seemingly only a second from waking.

He was extremely sick. She had felt the warmth of his feverish body through thin fabric, much too close, lying heavily against her back. It made things hard to focus, driving the motorcycle, trying to think of the next action. Doubtless, he probably would have handled it better, had their positions been exchanged. She exhaled, almost a ragged laughing sound-- thinking of this insane, inexplicable situation she found himself in.

First things first: assess the state of illness. She crossed the small gulf that divided the beds, sat down beside him and rested a hand on her forehead, and then placed it on his brow. Hot. Much too hot. Breathing rate 20, pulse soared at 63 beat per minute. The idiot probably ignored anything like sleeping or eating while he was on his mission. 

Noin entered the bathroom, flicked on the light. She filled the ice bucket full of cold water. There were towels, but they were made of terry cloth-- most unsuitable for her purpose. She searched her uniform for a handkerchief. Only a packet of paper ones. On one thought, she searched his pockets-- she had a sneaking suspicion he would carry something that old-fashioned around. She smiled when she found it, neatly folded into a square, in a pocket. She shook it out, refolded it into a long rectangle. There was careful embroidery on a corner, a crest of some sort and initials -- "M.P.", she read. Odd. She would have expected "Z.M." or something similar.

Still pondering the thought, she dipped the clothing into the water, wrung it out and placed it on his forehead. Ok. Step number two. She flushed. Cool the body. Remove any extraneous clothing. Shoes were easy, but he still wore the janitor's suit-- a one piece affair worn over normal clothing. She finally decided to do the simplest thing-- unzip the front and drag it off. And then the final thing: the shirt. With a forced clinical detachment, she reached for the top button.

He opened his eyes. Surprised, she froze. His hand, gloveless, feverishly warm, came up, encircled hers. "Relena," he murmured. A laboured breath. His eyes, bright with fever, focussed labouredly on hers. His other hand came out for support-- he sought to sit up.

"No, Zech, don't-" One hand on his shoulder, trying to stop. The hand encircling hers tightened, almost painfully. Then he let go. 

"Is she safe?" He shook his head, winced, brought a hand to his brow. "I must go, I must protect her. They've begun to shoot the servants now, and they're going to burn--" He swung his legs off the bed, leveraged the mattress for support with one hand, rose. He staggered a step, stumbled, fell--

"No--" she cried, an inhaled breath, stepping in front, arms up, catching him as he fell. Her arms around him, holding him close. He tensed, moved to break free. "No," she said. "Relax." She smiled, painfully, against him, against the rough linen of his shirt. "I promise you, I'll protect her."

He nodded. She let him go, turned back the cover of the bed. "You have to rest now, go to sleep." Wordless he acknowledged the command, half-collapsed on the bed. Once again, his lips formed the name, the inhaled syllable: _Relena_... Finally his eyes closed and he slept, breast rising and falling steadily.

"Relena," Noin echoed, sadly. There a sharp pain gripping her throat, extending its cold fingers down to her chest. With the loss of his warmth, she was now cold. Suddenly, she was too tired to stand, too tired to walk the short distance to the other bed. She sank to the carpet, leaned against the stiff support of the mattress he lay on. The crumpled handkerchief caught her eye, where it had fallen when he had risen, but she was too tired to move, to replace it. _Even delirious, he only called one name, _she thought dully. _He must care for her very much._

She closed her eyes, too tired to prop them open. As she drifted off, she thought: _I must learn to love this girl, at least for his sake, if I am to protect her..._

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Noin rolled over, fingers gripping the coverlet closer to cover her cold shoulder. _Cover?_ her mind thought. Alarmed, awake, she opened her eyes, blinked as she adjusted to the light level in the room. She automatically scanned the room, and found him in sitting in a chair in the corner. He was a reading a slim, decorated green volume, the curtain of the window drawn back a fraction for illumination. While he was still pale, the flush of fever had disappeared. The resilence of youth is quite amazing.

She sat up, rubbed her eyes. "Zechs?"

He rose, closing the book. Crossed the room and sat down on the bed across from her. "How are you feeling, Noin? You've been sleeping for a long time."

He must have found me sleeping by his bed, when he woke, she thought, and placed me here. "Fine, I guess. How long was I out?"

"Today is the 26th of July." His voice was flat. A pause. "I must thank you for saving me. But why--"

She held up a hand. "My questions first, Zechs. I think I earned the right. And I have quite a few." Noin shook her head, tried to compose her thoughts. He sat, silent. So she started with the obvious. "Why did you attempt to kill the Lt. General? Because you were from the Sanq kingdom?" 

The question hung in the air. They were both silent. Finally, he moved, flipped open the green book he held to the cover page. Handed the open book to her, without looking at her.

It was ornately decorated, in the style of 18th century Europe. Her eyes flickered to the title. Kritik der praktischen Vernunft, Immanuel Kant." Her eyes widened. Kant's _Critique of Practical Reason_, most probably first edition, in German. But what has this got to do with anything? Her puzzlement was probably apparent on her face. She scanned the opposite page, the inside of the front cover. Somebody had written, in an elegant hand, a short message. It was in German, but some words caught her eye: notably, 'zechs' and 'Marquise', although the 'a' looked rather like an 'e'. But she still didn't understand. "Zechs, I can't read German. All I see is something concerning you..."

He smiled grimly. "'A present for my son, the Marquise of Schölden, on his sixth birthday. I wish that the Crown Prince of the Sanq Kingdom, Millardo Peacecraft, study this book carefully and learn the principles of governing first himself, and then his people.' Signed, 'Peacecraft, 8th Monarch of the Kingdom of Sanq, 16th of June, AC 182.' I suppose I don't look much like my father, then."

He still didn't glance at her. She was frozen, staring at him.

"Eight days before my birthday, the Alliance military attacked my country. My father, the pacifist, had surrendered the kingdom, against the will of his advisors, advocating to the last the principles of Pacifism. And the Alliance military accepted, specifying the conditions--" his voice became harsh, and he controlled it, bringing it back to an even tone-- "conditions of surrender. Which included items like 'broadcasting your glorious defeat to the world.' The only item he would not agree to was to say that Pacifism was an illogical ideology.

"The Crown Prince, of course, didn't agree with any of it. He's-- forgive me, _was_ very proud, a prince typical of our royal line. My teachers had always emphasized the warrior heritage of our nation. As crown prince, I learnt how to fence at the same time I learnt to walk, to ride, to command. I didn't agree with Father, but then, who was I to argue, a not-quite six-year brat. Given the choice, I would fight. Hence the book. I guess I was my father's nightmare--"

"Zechs," Noin protested, but it was his turn to silence her.

"Four days after my birthday, the then Colonel Diego O'Neguil of the Alliance Military attacked, to please the Alliance military, against the orders of his superior officer, General Noventa. The Sanq kingdom, caught unaware, was utterly destroyed. He received a promotion to Lt. General for 'a brilliant move against those pacifist fools'.

"Father had died in the first invasion wave, trying to protect his people. When the country was completely devastated, the fighting stopped. When General Noventa arrived, it was too late. He only found a little boy in the ruins of the Royal Palace, clutching a book. In the presence of his guard, he ask for my name, knowing before I answer, knowing if I answered truly I would die. I, the coward, answered: 'Zech Merquise.' The rest, I think, should be clear. Forgive me if I haven't answered your question."

"Zechs-- I mean Millar--"

"Millardo Peacecraft is dead. He died on the steps of the Sanq Royal Palace." He smiled suddenly, bitterly, catching her eyes. "I'm Zechs Merquise, remember? The coward." He looked away. "The only thing I have left is revenge."

"Whatever you were doing back there, it wasn't revenge, Prince Millardo Peacecraft." Her voice was cold. "It was suicide. 'Suicide is a coward's way out.' How did you expect to get out afterwards?"

"I don't care about anything other than the execution of my family's executioner. What would you have me do? My duty as a prince requires that I avenge my king; my duty as a son requires I avenge my father--"

"What about your family name?" Noin rose. "'It's your duty not to die because you carry on the family name.' Your duty as the last heir of the name Peacecraft, your highness! It's not something you can deny so easily!"

His eyes narrowed. There was an angry silence.

Suddenly, she smiled. "Give it up, Zechs. It's your own words I'm throwing back at you. And don't try and argue that it doesn't apply." 

After a pause he smiled back, resigned. "How come you always win these arguments?"

She flipped her hair out of her eyes and looked nonchanently at the ceiling. "Just because _somebody_ hasn't understood Kant's use of logic very well doesn't mean that _everyone_ doesn't. But seriously, we could probably come up with a plan to assassinate General O'Neguil without losing---"

Zechs's brow furrowed. "'We'?" He stood up. "I can't risk your life or career. Thank you for everything you've done already, Noin, but you can't be implicated in this. I can't allow that."

"Obviously the fever did something to your brain. I _am_ already 'implicated in this.' I'm probably listed as an accomplice to the attempted assassination already. What more can I do to risk myself? If I go back, you're sending me to a court-martial and possibly an execution." The set of her eyes was firm and steady. "Like it or not, I'm in this now too."

"I can't allow you to be dragged down any further! What if you are killed?"

Noin cocked her head to one side. "Not if we're smart about this."

He stood up, refusing to meet her eyes. "Don't do this, Noin."

"Don't make me repeat myself." She said the words cockily.

Zechs collapsed onto the bed. "I'm never going to get into any sort of argument with you again."

Noin shrugged. "That just makes it easier for me." She started making her bed.

After a while, Zechs asked quietly: "Why are you doing this, Noin?"

And her hand shook slightly. Refusing to turn around to face him, she answered, "Because I'm your friend."


	10. IX- The Cruelest Master

Moving out of the motel and checking in at the hotel was easy. A handsome couple, on their honeymoon, the newness of their marriage apparent in their movements, the way the girl looked at the boy, the gingerness that the boy was careful not in intrude into personal space. Once they entered the room, the pretenses were dropped, and both of them worked hard at breaking in, barely having time to sleep, going out rarely only for food. That was ok. After all, all such newly made couples are like that. 

Only small things were different. For instance, the little barrier of pillows in the middle of the bed that had to dissassembled each morning before the chambermaids entered to clean up. The presence of two sleek laptops, so unusual on honeymoons. A hardworking couple, perhaps?

Hardworking as they were, still the players on the other side of the network was alert. It was much harder to get information. And no matter what, neither Zechs nor Noin could find any other thing to do with General O'Neguil without seriously jeopardizing their position. 

Surprisingly, the military had hushed up the entire event. Hacking into the Lake Victoria System, Noin found that she was still an instructor, assigned "sick leave." Zechs read in the newspaper that the Roxenburg base incident was "a trial terrorist attack staged to test emergency defense systems." It was clear that OZ did not want the public to know that some of their members had probably rebel. That would be bad for morale, having two of their best officers court-martialed.

Yet, given that nothing had been done against them openly, they became increasingly more cautious. It wasn't like OZ to leave them alone. And there was no progress being made, even after a week of hard work. Noin watched Zech grew increasing more haggard, as he became more impassive. The earlier illness did not help. He became more distant, more formal.

Looking at the clock, it was already three. She had lost track of the time, and Zechs was always too absorbed to notice things like food. "I'm going out to get lunch," Noin murmured, before she got up.

He acknowledged briefly before turning back to the screen, eyes lighter than the colour of ice.

It was beginning to get dark at Noin walked to the usual place where she picked up sandwiches and hot tea. "It'll be just a moment," said the vendor, handing back the e-cash card. She nodded and took a seat at facing the window. Tired, she was content just listening to noises of the kitchen behind the counter, just to stare out of the window.

Randomly, she picked out details on the people walking in the park outside. A dark-haired girl, with her nurse. A elderly old man with bright blue scarf. And then a certain figure, of a certain height and of a certain face. Soldiering instincts took over as Noin froze without seeming to stop moving, and slowly stepped back into the shadows of the store, willing that man not to turn around and see her. The man, dressed in a simple blue sweater and dark khakis, sat down, with his back toward her. Noin's heart thumped hard.

_General Diego O'Neguil. _

A hand on her shoulder almost caused her to react. She calmed herself, before turning to smile at the vendor, with the usual bag of lunch. "Thanks," she said with a smile, head steady. Nonchalantly, her voice was even as she asked about the man in the blue sweater. 

"Oh, him. You usually don't come this late, but he goes and sits there alone for a hour or two everyday of the past two months."

She thanked him for the food and left. It took all her will to walk past the behind of the bench without fault and back to the hotel. 

For the next two days, Noin and Zechs observed the area regularly, first noting the park, the movement of the people, the layout of the trees. And of the man that came punctually at three to sit at the same bench. 

It was perfect.

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Even Noin didn't consider that the assassin would be her, even though arguably she was the better marksman out of a MS. She understood why it had to be him. So they carefully assembled the equipment. It would actually be quite easy. Where the target sat, there was no cover. A concealed tree half way across the park provided an unparalleled vantage point. Sure, a far shot, but any of the OZ Specials cadets she trained could probably do it. And after all this was First Lieutenant Zechs Merquise. 

And so they sat, in the room, waiting for the time to pass by. Tense, silent, not looking at each other.

"I have yet to ask one more thing of you. It regards Relena," he said quietly, eyes focussed on the mirror-like surface of the window, staring off into some burden of his own.

Noin was silent, watching, waiting for a cue on how to respond. "Go on," she said, in a low voice.

"If in case I am unable to make it back, " he smiled wryly, "please tell her, when she reaches a reasonable age, of our past. And...and that I love her--" 

He didn't notice her startle a little, and continued, oblivious.

"-And that she needn't choose my path." Dropping his head, he stared intently at his hands. "Actually, I prefer that she remain as she is, shielded from all the blood that surrounds our family." Suddenly he whirled around to face her. "Please, promise me that you'll protect her, Noin. You're the only one I can trust with this."

"Of-of course, " she answered, refusing to look at him, refusing to let her voice wobble. _And that I love her,_ his voice echoed dully. _Stop being pathetic._ Noin bit her tongue hard and smiled, hopefully not too artificially, meeting his eyes. "Of course," she repeated, more firmly. "Although I should probably not--that'll give you some incentive to make it back alive." Turning away again, she said softly, "Ms. Dorlian must love you very much, Zechs. Don't do anything rash. If you died, she would be very sad."

He gave her a puzzled look. "What do you mean? I don't think Relena remembers me."

Surprised, she blurted out the first thing on her mind. "I thought that she was your girlfriend."

There was dead silence. And then Zechs started to smile. Looking away, he tried hard not to laugh. _Is this what you were thinking, Noin?_

"It's Relena _Peacecraft_ by the way," he said, a teasing tone in his voice.

Noin blushed a furious red, too embaress to notice. Calmly, he noted the colour. "I'm sorry," she said, clasping her hands, "I didn't mean to pry into your personal business."

He gave up. "Relena 'Peacecraft' as in Princess Relena Peacecraft, the Marchoness of Furlsuv, or the youngest and only daughter of King Peacecraft the First, the eighth monarch of Sanq. I'll leave you to deduct the rest."

She replied in a very small voice. "Oh." And then she managed to deepen her colour. _Oh no,_ she thought, _what must he be thinking right now? What do I say next?_

"Anyways," Zechs continued, straight-faced, "I'm happy that some confusion has been cleared up. If you don't mind, I'll go make some final preparations now." 

-------------------------  
+=+ == +=+@@@ +=+ == +=+  
--------------------------

In a park, very few people look up at the infinite expanse of sky above them. Especially not on a rainy day. Also, there weren't any people. It couldn't be a better day for operations, under the guise of rain. 

Noin sat on a sturdy branch, hidden from view by the foliage of the tree. Zechs stood immediately below, a smudge of shadow against the tree. Under his heavy coat there was a standard issue revolver, with a silencer. Testing it out in the sewers, the gun had made less sound than a ball hitting a rug. A dull thud, certainly not audible above the rain. 

Reflexively, Zechs reached inside his coat for his pocketwatch, a black-gloved hand careless flicking the cover open. Three-fifteen. 

As if on cue, General O'Neguil stepped into the park, head down because of the rain, wandered to his seat. Noin held her breath.

Zechs carefully lifted the gun out and took aim. The world slowed to a breath and the back of O'Neguil's head and then out of focus to the front sight of the gun. His pupils narrowed. Slowly, his finger depressed.

A little girl and her nurse entered the park. Despite her research, Noin had never even heard of this girl appearing at this park before. A pretty little girl, bouncing along, her nurse holding a large black umbrella over her charge. So typical nowadays-- mother too busy to care, father usually divorced with limited visiting rights...

O'Neguil stood up, and the little girl waved at him. Awkwardly, O'Neguil waved back. 

And Zechs froze, an unreadible expression on his face. His gloved fist clenched around the gun.

Slowly O'Neguil smiled, carefully, as if he wasn't used to the expression, waved again. Noin's breath caught. The smile of a man, towards his daughter. Her head whipped to face Zechs. She remembered the face of the little girl whose father's life was on trial, and the words of a long dead man...

Why is it, even of the cruelest, that nobody is truly evil? 

Her eyes widened._ Are you going to shoot?_ She looked away, unable to witness the execution of the manuever. _But you must, Prince Millardo Peacecraft._

But he was transfixed, watching the scene unfold before him. Suddenly his expression hardened and the trigger finger continued its motion towards. And stopped, if meeting some unknown barrier. 

His words, from long ago: _I admire your generosity, Cadet Lucrezia Noin. I cannot be so forgiving..._

The heart is a cruel master. 

The nurse, alert, frowned at the man waving at her charge. Quickly, she spun around, dragging the little girl behind her. Who was most unwilling to go. Who kept spinning around to look at her father. Who couldn't take his eyes off her. 

Finally when the little girl exited the park, O'Neguil slowly walked off range. The shuffling gait of a man sore at heart.

Lowering the gun, Zechs slumped against the tree. Just as suddenly, he dropped from the tree and headed into the rain. 

-------------------------  
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--------------------------

When she finally found him him, Noin was almost shivering with cold. Her cold hand gripped the umbrella only reflexively. 

He was sitting on a wet stone bench, oblivious to the rain or the wind or the sound of the storm-driven waves crashing on the rocks below. Silver-gold hair, drenched, hung dripping. She could not see his eyes. Stopping, Noin found she didn't know what to say.

They stayed there a while, she and he, admist the cold wind and grey sky.

Finally he spoke, his voice controlled and calm and low. "I failed, Noin." He did not turn to look at her. Leaning back suddenly, he faced the sky.

"We can try--," she faltered.

"I cannot guarantee I will be able to shoot." He raised his hands, stared at them. "It appears that I am a hypocrite after all."

"Don't say that." She paused, searching for words. "_The revenge of a gentleman takes ten---_"

"Sun Tzu, or Confucious," he supplied, "or another one of the great Chinese scholars. I don't remember history anymore." He stood up, stared out among the waves. When he spoke again, his voice was soft and harsh and too full of anger. "It's been more than ten years, Noin."

She thought furiously. "Your father would not have approved of the -- this action."

"He's dead. Mother's dead. Murdered, killed, passed away, whatever else you want. There's only Relena and I left. And a brief mention of the glorious Alliance victory on ten thousand dusty history books. Relena, if she wants happiness, should remain as Relena Dorlian. So there is, in essence, only the hypocritical, honourless fool that is Zechs Merquise. Peacecraft is truly dead." He paused, his voice quiet over the sound of falling rain. "I thought about that, what my father wanted, what my mother wanted. You're right. They wouldn't have sanctioned their own revenge. They wouldn't fight back to protect what rightfully they were obligated to protect. After all, my royal father was the one that so longed for peace that he renamed the family 'Peacecraft.' Oh, how my grandfather would rage. In the face of a thousand years of bloodshed my family prides itself in, a reminder that his descendants were only ever to practice 'peace craft'. He didn't realize that 'to pacify' and 'to wage war' are the same, and the meaning of 'pacify' is 'to make peace'.

He turned to face her. "I don't believe in any of it. I can't-- there is peace, and only peace for the lambs, a weak peace, a peace that only happens when there is an army to protect it, when there must be wars to protect it. To pacfiy, to make peace. Hypocrisies upon hypocrisies. One thing I admired most about father, was that he was always true to his ideals, even to the end, even to the price of sacrificing everything he held dear. 'I am not that generous.' I thought I would fight, to protect what I hold dear, because I am not like father, I cannot bow down and accept the destruction of everything for an unacchievable ideal. But I find, today, that I cannot. I am so weak such that I cannot even kill the murderer of my king and my family!"

She was silent, having no words again to answer. No words she dared speak. 

_Once,_ Noin thought, _once I thought that mother was crazy, giving up her career just for the sake of marrying a strict traditionist as father. It was so passé, to give up everything you ever wanted for love, for the love of a person. I was so angry. Why can't the other make concessions? But that's not what true love is about: not you loving me, but I you. . . _

Closing the umbrella, she stood in the rain. Equal. "I have no words to offer you, Zechs. Only--you are right; peace is an illusion, protected by the threat of war. Hence soldiers are at once the defender of peace and the destroyer of it. A hypocrisy...But--I care for none of that." 

Noin turned away, eyes unreadable. Zechs stared at her. "Only that-- I have seen how unhappy you are, and--" she faltered, "and that I don't want you to be. . ."

_Whereas I have the ability win my own races, I choose to run by your side. When I was little, my nightmare was to be forced into this position, live the same life as my mother. Now, isn't it ironic that I choose it freely. Measuring up to my own standards, I failed. But I fail gladly._

She continued: "You know, if you want me to kill O'Neguil, you only have to say. Or anything else you desire. Only say the word, and I shall do it. But-- I don't want to see you unhappy, Zechs. After all, 'isn't that what friends are for'?" The sickly phrase tumbled from her lips.

_Liar, liar pants on fire. What are you doing, Noin?_

_"_I ... I ..." she started. And then, she found, she couldn't finish the sentence. 

_Ti amo..._

Ruthlessly she continued on, refusing to met his eyes: "... found a different way to O'Neguil. I was thinking about it as I was looking for you. I know how to crack the OZ system defenses."


	11. X- Foreshadow

It was very easy, once she was away from Zechs and really thinking hard. Everything was a lot simpler when he was away and her mind was functioning the way she was accustomed to. Really, it was quite like another really hard question she had tackled during exam time, many, many years ago..Noin hit few more keys on keyboard, trying not to look at the figure sitted on the edge of the window, not daring to look at the figure. Finally he walked out of room all together, as if picking up her distress. _You're pathetic,_ she thought wearily. _Too pathetic for words. . ._

Out of the more illegal things she considered doing in her life, this would be one of the more serious ones... she tapped at the computer again, methodically unravelling the first of the defense layers protecting the system. There was a brief sensation of air as the door opened and closed. Zechs had entered the room again, carrying a tray of tea. The silence was awkward.

She enforced a nonchalance she didn't feel. "Here's the plan, when I break in. As of eleven pm sharp this evening, all the security devices was going to be fooled for 90 minutes. All the doors will opened to manual force, all the electronic sensors looped on normal. In short, the building will be totally and completely defenseless to intruders for 90 minutes. All it takes now, is for us get past the guards." And if worse came to worse, she could distract them while Zechs infiltrated.

He place a cup of tea by her elbow. Then he was silent, a pensive look on his face, half turned away from her, considering something, his own cup in hand.

Picking up the cup, she took a swallow of the too hot liquid. It calmed her. She forced a smile. "It shouldn't be very hard to do; some of our exam questions were harder. Relax--"

Sudden he turned to face her. "Noin," he said, his voice grave. "You have my eternal gratitute for everything you've done for me so far..."

For a second, her eyes drooped, and Zech's voice sounded very far away. _I must have been working too long at this machine, _she thought. The moment faded.

"But I cannot let you risk yourself any further in my affairs...already you've endangered yourself too much."

Noin started to tell him otherwise, but suddenly the room spun. Alarmed, she rose on the edge of adrenaline that coursed through her veins, fighting the actions of the sophorific...

"I will go and kill O'Neguil tonight. And then I will turn myself in. I will tell them that I forced you. I beg of you, go along with the story...I'm sorry, Noin..."

But already the drug was winning, and the room spun. Unwillingly, she felt her body weaken, as her legs no longer able to support her weight. Zech moved, caught her as she collapsed. Gently, he lifted her to the bed. He counted her respirations. 12 to the minute, deep and regular. Pulse, 52 per minute, regular sinus rhythm... Good.

He stood back. "Forgive me, Noin," he said quietly. "I'm a useless fool, and I won't have you ruin your life because of me. You've already taken too many risks, risks that I shouldn't have let you take." _But I don't think, do I._ _Or I can't think. I'm the selfish arrogant prince who can only ever look towards himself, or whine. I can hear my father: 'Weakling. Take responsibility for your own actions.'_ He smiled, sadly. "It would have been better for you if you had never met me. It would be better for you to forget me. I'm not a very good friend to have." Zechs walked to the window, touched his gloved fingers to the glass. He stared at her reflection.

He turned again to face the sleeping figure, his expression unreadable. _Would I have met you as Millardo Peacecraft? Would I have met you on the battlefield then, as we fought for the future of Sanq?_

_Would I have killed you?_

He bit his lip. Ignoring everything, he sat down in front of the computer, and began typing.

It was quickly done. Everything is easy when you finally grasp the key. A month's worth of thought in a proof can be written in ten lines. 

Finishing, he took the bus to the site, climbed over the walls. Nothing more than an exercise OZ cadets were trained to do. Walked through the doors of the hacked system, avoided the guards who depended on the electronic eyes to maintain security. Calmly, perfectly, Zechs executed each step of his plan exactly as he thought it out. It didn't take him much time to reach the private study of the lieutenant general. Oddly, he felt no sense of trepidation. Calmly, he pushed open the door, and walked in. Raising the gun, Zechs leveled it to the back of the chair.

And General Treize Khrushenada turned to face him. Smiling cordially, as usual. "Good evening, First Lieutanent."

Ice blue eyes slammed open. And narrowed. He made no reply.

"Or should I say, _Kroneprinz _Millardo Peacecraft'?"

Zechs flinched. Trieze's lazy eyes observed the movement. And smiled.

There was a click, as the semi-automatic lever was depressed.

In German:"_I don't deserve the honour of being killed by a prince. _" 

He replied in the ancient tongue. "_I have no honour_." Coldly. Without movement.

"Then, _Prinz_, consider your father's wish." Trieze stood up abruptly, bringing his eyes to level, his voice as cool as ever. He started, "'_I wish that the Crown Prince of the Sanq Kingdom, Millardo Peacecraft, study this book carefully and learn the principles of governing first himself... _'"

There was another flash of something unreadable in the younger man's eyes. Slowly, he lowered the gun. "What do you want with me?"

"A request. An offer. A chance to fulfill your royal father's vision."

Zech's voice was very cold as he answered. "My father's vision is but a fantasy. An illusion that all the world but he could see through. Are you, sir, an magician to conjure up a thrall to blind people's eyes?" He stopped, harsh. "For that is the only way true peace can live."

Trieze smiled, a dangerous smile, the light in his blue eyes unyielding. "What if I am?" 

"Do not mock me, General. Do not!"

Languidly, Trieze stood, ignoring the gun aimed at him. "I hear both you and Lt. Noin studied philosophy extensively in your days at OZ. Therefore, you both believe that peace is hypocrisy. A paradox. And that is true. A soldier is once the defender of peace and the destroyer of peace. And to you, among all men, this brings the most grief. For you are a soldier, and you are heir to the throne of peace." His smile faded, and his voice grew harder, but still with that cadence that was himself. "Why is it that only violence can protect peace? Because it is death that makes an mark on heart and minds of men. The greater the violence the more lasting the mark. That is the purpose of war."

He rounded the desk. "Did you hear, First Lieutenant, of the new changes in the military? Pilots are expensive to select, to train, to keep-- why have them? They have developed a new system, a perfect fighting system, and the mind behind it is artificial. A pilot claims the suit is but an extension of his own body, but how can it compare to this? The suit and controller is one, and the one is a machine." Softer and softer grew his voice, as the distance shortened between them. "No more tears over a brother, father, uncle's death; no more worries as to how 'ethical' it is to send your men into danger. A war can be fought at arm's length, since you do not send your children. A trivial war." He came to a stop, barely a distance to the unwavering barrel aimed at his head. 

"There is no threat in a battlefield of automatons. Where is the treasure held at stake? There is no drive to satisfy the other's demands. Only by death can you make a point. The only recourse it to kill civilians-- for there are no presented targets, no soldiers. You kill people who have not made their peace with death. An unjust war."

The younger man's expression was unreadable, and he made no movement. "What is the difference between a soldier and a terrorist? Only that one fights only other soliders, and the other kills civilians. The strong fighting the strong or the weak oppressing the weaker. A soldiers dies. What is the response? Anger, grief, denial. But muted-- for a warrior is resigned to death. 'It is better to think of me as already dead.' His family accepts the facts. There is no talk of revenge, once the war is concluded. But when a civillian dies, it is an outrage! A terrible price must be exacted, lest the peace of civilians be threatened! And what tools can we exact it with? Only the death of more civilians!"

Treize's voice dropped to a harsh whisper: "A perpetual war."

Zech's eyes widened. But he did not lower the gun. Mercilessly, Treize continued. "No, peace cannot be had by weak terrorizing the weaker. It is only a peace of the strong that can endure. A peace where everybody desires it, even if only because war is so much worse... So there must be war. A terrible war, to sear the tragedy of violence into men's hearts, into men's minds. To ensure that never again such violence will be wrought at the hands of man. 'A war to end all wars', and then an everlasting peace of the strong."

"This is the answer to your father's dream: that only the greatest war can engender the greatest peace." Treize smiled. "_There_, Prince Millardo Peacecraft of Sanq, is the answer to your paradox." Coolly, he tilted his head back the tinest fraction to gaze directly at the taller man's eyes, the unspoken question steady as a reflection: _Will you join me, Prince, in this undertaking?_

Unbidden, Zechs took a step backward. He opened his mouth open, closed it. Then, slowly, ever so slowly did the gun lower. The smile on the other man's face did not change one bit as the younger man broke away from the unbearably direct gaze. Finally, he spoke. "I cannot believe that men's minds can forever hold an impression. Wherever there are the strong, they will make war on the weak. This is the way of the world. Only in a world of lambs can there be no war. And I cannot abolish the strong. . ." He paused, voice quiet. _I cannot deny what you say may be true. _

"Very well," Zech said gravely. "I am yours to command." In one graceful movement, he offered Treize the gun, handle first. "Do with me as you wish."

Accepting the firearm, Trieze walked around to the table and sat down again. "My thanks, First Lieutenant." He clasped his hands and rested his elbows on the table. Conversionally, he asked: "By the way, what did you do with Lieutenant Noin? I was expected her to be here as well."

"Lieutenant Noin has nothing to do with this. I accept full responsibility for my actions." His voice was very cold.

"Hmm. The crack of the system was done by you then. I applaude." He smiled lazily. "You are a very amazing young man, First Lieutenant! I thought Noin did it, but it was not quite her style. Maybe you really did deserve the highest marks in Lake Victoria." 

There was a further drop in temperature. "What do you mean by that, sir?"

Treize spun the chair to the side. "You didn't know, did you, that the examiners found some very strange errors in the Lieutenant Noin's papers? Admittedly, they were _intelligient_ errors, so she could have in good faith really made them. The odd thing was, those minor faults were exactly enough to slide her mark under yours, First Lieutenant. After all, it was apparent to everyone that she had--"

Zechs' eyes had opened very wide. 

"Yes," Treize said sardonically. "Exactly. Now, I happen to care very much about the fate of my former pupil. Where is she?"

"I didn't want her to get involved any further, so I put a mild sophorific in her tea." He glanced at the clock. "She should wake in another eight hours or so."

Trieze sighed. "You could have made things so much easier by letting her come with you. I had wanted the lieutenant as well as yourself--"

"No!" Leaning forward on the table to meet the older man's eyes, Zechs had never looked quite so intense before. "No," he said, more calmly, as he caught hold of himself. "I will not let her get involved in any dangerous activities because of me again." He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, they were hard and blue. "Even you agree she's sacrificed too much for one such as myself already." There was a pause. "Sir," he added.

Nonplussed, Trieze said: "It is Lt. Noin's choice, and not yours, First Lieutenant." Even though his voice was soft, it carried with it the tone of authority.

"You will have my skills, and my life, as you wish. But Lt. Noin will follow me, not because she agrees with you, not because it will do her life any good. She will follow you, and kill people, because Zechs Merquise has chosen to follow you and kill people. Even if it goes against her morals, Lt. Noin will do as I wish. But for once, I'm going to do something for her sake." Again he caught himself, and forced the harshness from his words. "If you are to ask Lt. Noin to join, I will immediately forsake your cause."

There was a long dangerous pause. Trieze didn't like being threatened. Finally, he spoke, his words neutral, but with respect. "I will honour that... request. And," he smiled again, "I apologize for underestimating you, prince." He rose. "Well, this has been an interesting evening, First Lieutenant. I shall dearly enjoy becoming friends with you." He opened a drawer; lifted out a large box. "I will have to ask you to spare General O'Neguil for a while, though. I have my plans for him-- although I promise you that you will be able to enact your revenge soon. To cement our friendship, I have a gift for you."

With mock ceremony, he handed Zechs the box. Coldly, the younger man lifted the lid.

Inside lay a silver mask-helmet.

"I'm afraid you'll have to wear that for a long time, First Lieutenant. Perhaps as long as we are friends. Too many people can link you to the attacker of Lieutenant General O'Neguil and I have enough problems as it trying to cover that incident up. It would help if people didn't have to look at you all the time. I've already pulled as many photos of you as possible, but people remember a striking young prince such as yourself, even if you braid your hair."

Zechs stared at the mask. Then he it slipped it on slowly. It was unexpectedly light.

"You are free to leave. But I expect to see you at the military airport by 0800 tomorrow. If you remember, we were scheduled to attend the generals' meeting at New Singapore tomorrow."

Saluting, Zech turned and went towards the door. 

Treize's voice rang out. "You will not reconsider, First Lieutenant, the role of Lt. Noin?"

He answer quietly, without turning. "No. It is better if there was neither Millardo Peacecraft nor Zech Merquise in her life."


	12. Epilogue

When Treize boarded the plane the next morning, after clearing security, he found Zechs already seated. The young man rose, bowed with elegant grace. To all appearance, nothing had changed, save the mask. It was as if the whole long event had never happened, and he had followed Treize around as scheduled for the past few weeks. With the mask, it was now nigh impossible to read whatever scant emotion there was on the younger man's face. Acknowledging the bow, Treize sat down, observing that exactly as proper, how the lieutenant behaved. He stared directly in front, making no movement.

Trieze smiled. Everything was more or less going exactly to plan. Everybody worries too much.

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--------------------------

Carrying the newpaper, Instructor Noin made her way quietly back to her rooms. There were, Instructor Piaz informed her, 102 exams to mark. It would take a while to correct all of them, and she didn't relish the task. _At least,_ she thought, _it gives me an excuse to escape back to my room._ When she had waken up, she was at the military hospital on Lake Victoria base. The nurses had clucked at her and assured at her that she was ok and safe now. She was confused at that point. And then she read General Trieze's missive to the school. 

_I apologize for appropriating Lt. Lucrezia Noin without warning. She was on a then-classified mission with my subordinate, First Lieutenant Zechs Merquise... Unfortunately, she was injured in the taking of the rebels out to assassinate Lieutenant General Diego O'Neguil, but she managed to protect the General's life. I entrust her care to your hands._

And, after reading the newspaper, she saw him, with a strange silver mask over his face, in his usual uniform of red and gold and white. Her hand shook slightly. There were no messages from him.

_I'm sorry, Noin..._

_Damn it,_ she thought. _I can't just sit here and mope. _Her brow furrowed. _I've got far too much work to do... _She flicked on the radio.

"I'm not accepting that as an apology, Zechs," she said aloud. "You spiked my tea and run off, you abandon me on the dance floor and run off-- surely not the behavior of a gentleman or a prince...I'm not forgiving you yet."

Carefully she cut the picture of him out, and pushed it into her drawer. She would find a frame for it later. The radio started to play a familiar song.

_Again, I hear her words  
exactly as said. That she'll give  
Oh, so true. She loves you. . ._

_I keep on hearing you so fret and upset  
how you won't give your love evermore. . ._

She smiled. "It been 3 days and 7 hours, Zechs. I'm counting."

_And I hear you   
So fret and upset  
How you won't  
Give your love  
Evermore. . ._

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He observed coldly, clinically, that the song was not too annoying, the girl was pretty, and that they danced well together. He should be enjoying this. However-- There was a figure standing by the wall, the too familiar shock of purple-black hair obscuring her face... And this girl - _what was her name again?--_ was saying something to him and he was too distracted to make an answer.

"I beg your pardon...?" Zechs said finally, unable to remove the taste of ice from his words.

Xiaohuar smiled up at him guilelessly. "I asked if you, sir, was this cold to every single girl that asks you for a dance."

"I am sorry." Less cold, but not warm enough. Which he should be. It was improper and most ungentlemanly of him to ignore Xiaohuar. He watch Treize approach _her_, lead _her_ to the dance floor.

"No, don't apologize-- it probably is my fault anyway. But," she asked, her voice as guileless as her face, "what how you behave if _that_ girl had asked for this dance?" Xiaohuar turned her head to look at Trieze and his partner.

He stiffened unperceptablely. But her hand was on his shoulder, and she would have felt the tensing and relaxing of muscles. The singer waited, but Zechs refused to answer. So they carried on the dance in silence. 

At the end, as she curtsied, she said lazily: "I'm devastated, First Lieutenant, that you have no eyes for me. However" -- she observed a different man, an older man, approach the female officer, to ask for the next dance-- "it appears that your lady friend is more popular than I am..." With a last languid smile, she moved away, graceful as only stage performers can be.

In a moment Xiaohuar climbed to the stage and started her performance again. "I must thank my partner for a beautiful dance, although I guess he has another girl on his mind. So, I would like to sing this next song for him, "Only your friend", from Macross II." 

The music started, and he made his way back to side of Treize, oblivious to the trailing gazes of girls after him, determined not to look at her on the dance floor.

_...It's then when my heart skips a beat  
Am I only your friend?  
Long lost out of view   
As I sit next to you_

_Then suddenly you rise and go  
You walk away  
I lose sight of you..._

_Damnit, _he thought. _This is stupid. Why can't you admit that you want a dance with her?_ Strengthening his resolve, he made his way to the front and onto the dance floor, seeking a particular couple. _She is your friend, you know, and you really ought to greet her sooner..._

He took a careful breath and tapped the older man on the shoulder.

_Maybe it's love- I don't know  
I just can't tell you what happens in me  
It's love. Oh- can't you see?_

_I can't let on that I'm scared  
You'll see right through to my soul  
What shall I say, when you know?_

_Forever! Held in my heart  
I'll hide inside how I wish'd it to be,  
and never let it show_

_Maybe you'll never leave me  
Remain as friends -let it be,  
I'll hide inside these few words_

_I truly love you..._

AC 194, At Lake Victoria's Ball, before the beginning of the epic known as --

**GUNDAM WING.**


	13. Author's Notes

Some readers have found that my plot is little undone in places. I'm sorry; I didn't mean for it to be that way. I hope to clear some confusion up by posting these answers to some questions.  
  
Originally, I had written more scenes with Treize, but I've decided I'm not qualified yet to step within his head. I couldn't have him just "talk to a wall" so I took these scenes out. I thought it wasn't very important as the story is about 1) Zechs and Noin and the details of their relationship; and, 2) Treize's master plan in the main series. I'm sorry if it makes my story confusing-- it was just supposed to be some minor details. But my thanks to some astute readers for pointing out that I haven't made that complete clear, as a good story writer should do.   
  
I'll try harder next time...  
  
Chinkonkyoku.  
  
  
1. Why is there a delay between Zechs and Noin's return to OZ and the beginning of Gundam Wing?  
  
Because in Ep. 4, when Noin first sees Zechs on the holophone, she says something to the effect of: "I haven't seen you for a year and some days." When I wrote the fic, I knew how many days, but it escapes my mind now.   
  
Also, Zechs has just developed a closer relationship with Trieze; they need sometime to achieve the friendship they had in Gundam Wing. I'm giving them a year to do it in.  
  
2. What about the random person that recognizes Zechs without the mask?  
What about the cover-up?  
  
Yes, there might be some people. I would imagine that Zechs, even though feverish and extremely sick, is still an elite graduate of OZ. He would have taken pains to avoid people-- hence the sunglasses, janitor's outfit and the baseball cap. In effect, the only people who would have seen him briefly would be General Diego O'Neguil, and his two bodyguards. The bodyguards were knocked off almost instantly. Diego saw a baseball capped, sunglassed janitor. He wouldn't have known that his attacker had long hair. Besides, O'Neguil was busy fending for his life, gripping the knife, etc. It would be hard to identify the attacker as the First Lieutenant Zechs Merquise. Treize was just being over-cautious.   
  
In my mind, Treize knew about the past of his subordinate when First Lieutenant Zechs joined him after training with General Catalonia in (I think) AC 193 (check the Episode Zero Manga). Also, I always have thought of Treize as a genius at strategy and manipulating people-- therefore he would have seen Zechs staring at O'Neguil at the ball and deduced correctly what his lieutenant was up to when Zechs went suddenly AWOL. Barring that, I'm guessing that Treize, the mastermind of a million schemes, would have been monitoring Zech's actions (electronic and otherwise). When I wrote the story, in my mind, Trieze *knew* from the beginning what was going to happen. Therefore, when he found Noin also AWOL, he assigned her "sick leave". Being a high-ranked officer in OZ and the Alliance military, he could safely cover the incidence up. Who would question him?  
  
To O'Neguil, he could say: well, there's some rebels after you, and Lt. Noin saved you. Which is true.  
  
To the Alliance Military, he would say: it looks bad that some rebels managed to break in our base and attack one of our men; let's just pass it off as a practice so the public won't lose confidence in us.  
  
Treize, being one of my more favorite characters, is given "God-rights" in my story.   
  
3. Why should Treize jeopardize his position for two people?  
  
Zechs Merquise and Lucrezia Noin, as I tried to portray them, are suppose to be extraordinarily brilliant. Treize, having taught Noin (see Episode Zero manga), obviously appreciates this and rightly want to recruit her. Having worked with Zechs for approximately a year, at this point (again, Zechs should have joined him approximately one year ago-- Episode Zero manga), I should think that he begins to admire Zechs. Zechs, as Millardo *Peacecraft* and his father's son, aims for peace because it is the will of his father. In fact, I suspect that the recruitment of these two characters would have occured at this time, even if Zechs hadn't rebelled. O'Neguil just gave Treize an excuse to recruit them.  
  
Treize is aware of the risks involved, but the chance to get two of the best OZ soldiers is worth the risk. Besides, Treize is certain that he can handle the repercusions-- he is a genius himself, particularly at anticipating people and handling them, including little children. Having covered up the incident successfully, he could deal with recruitment of these two people. In fact, it serves as a useful club over their heads, should they have declined his offer. It was the ideal time. So-- the short answer: because Treize is a genius and knows he is a genius (unlike Zechs), he can be daring-- he knows when he will win and when he will lose (Sun Tzu again).  
  
Finally, Treize really does care about people, and particularly about his former student, Noin. In Episode Zero, he shields her from Heero's bazuka attack. In my story, he's rather protective of her (he sees her as a possible protege), much like that of a father or an older brother (see Ch.10, when Treize gives Zechs a harsh time about being blind). If possible, I think he would act to save Noin's career, if it didn't interfere with his plans too much. Notice that in the series, he did the same for Relena. 


End file.
